Play My Music
by ilikehats2
Summary: The Avengers in a series of one shots inspired by and surrounding many different songs. From angst to romance, from canon to AU, the music inspires the tale.
1. Bad Blood

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and** **Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you.**

* * *

 **Bad Blood- By Taylor Swift**

* * *

 _ **'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **You know it used to be mad love**_

 _ **So take a look what you've done**_

 _ **'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **Hey**_

Something hot and cold flashed through him the moment he saw the familiar swish of red. For a long moment he didn't want to believe that it was her, that it was some other woman with vividly red hair. But Clint knew from the twist in his stomach and the throbbing along his right bicep that it was her. That it was Natasha. He was hot and cold, with anger and loss, hatred and sadness. With the urge to confront her and the urge to hide back in the shadows before she confronted him.

They were the best of friend, the greatest duo in S.H.I.E.L.D.. Emphasis on was, now she was a total stranger to him. A deadly stranger. And in all of Clint Barton's years of training, his instincts told him to never trust a stranger.

He did once. And look where that got him.

 _ **Now we got problems**_

 _ **And I don't think we can solve them**_

 _ **You made a really deep cut**_

 _ **And, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **Hey**_

Clint barely escaped with his life, he considered himself extremely lucky to have survived. He'd seen so many other agents, young and old, die at their hands. At her hands. And they almost got him as well, except he got away. Albeit, with more injuries than he cared to admit.

His calloused fingers traced the scar along his right bicep, long and jagged. It was impossible to miss, it's milky white color stuck out sharply against his slightly darker skin tone. It was one of the most recent scars that littered his body, one of the newest in his collection. But what hurt the most was that Natasha gave him this one.

 _ **Did you have to do this? I was thinking that you could be trusted**_

 _ **Did you have to ruin what was shiny? Now it's all rusted**_

 _She matched her stride to his pace, a blank mask wiping her face clean of any emotion. Clint could only guess what she was feeling, what she was thinking. If anything, he could guess that she saw him as an idiot. He could also guess, though with uncertainty, that she was nervous._

 _"Don't worry," He told her, "Fury may be a stubborn son of a bitch, but so long as I'm there he won't shoot you dead."_

 _"How can you be so sure?" Her voice was as blank as her expression and hollow. Her green eyes bore into his grey eyes, filled with skepticism and disbelief._

 _"Just trust me," Clint says, "I have good instincts. It might take some hard persuading and some stubborn arguing but I will get him to see the good in you. I will get him to see you as someone more than some killer for sale."_

 _Her green eyes narrowed into slits, something Clint wasn't sure to be a dangerously bad sign or not. But it was true, she was a killer for hire. And often for the worse kinds of people, the wrong people. She didn't lend her skills and resources to the same people that paid Clint._

 _"There is no good in me."_

 _"Then why are you still here? We both know you could get out of those handcuffs fairly easily," Their gaze fell onto the handcuffs that held the Russians wrists together, in front of her stomach. They both knew that getting out of those wouldn't be that difficult for the Black Widow. Clint smiled after a few moments, pausing in the hallway, "If there's no good in you, if you didn't want to change your ways, then we wouldn't be where we are right now. I believe you want to change. I know you won't hurt me because you would have tried to kill me already."_

 _Without another word, they turned their gaze from each other to Fury's office door and stepped inside._

They all told him to not trust her. Fury, Hill, Coulson, every S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent questioned his sanity and warned him that Natasha Romanov was not to be trusted. That she would rather kill you than trust you, that she was manipulating Clint so she could get intel on them. No one trusted her. Except him.

They were the greatest duo throughout S.H.I.E.L.D., no one worked better together than them. Admittedly at first, they didn't quite get along or agree with the techniques of their partner. Clint didn't agree with her methods, mostly those concerning her using sex on her targets, and Natasha didn't understand why he preferred such an outdated weapon instead of some of the best guns offered to him. It annoyed, no, it angered her that he used such a primitive item.

But through hard work, through listening, through keeping each other's secrets, through hours of training, countless missions and captures they'd managed to work out all of the kinks in their partnership. They knew each other more or less like the back of their hands. Their strengths and weaknesses, their secrets, the things that torture them in their nightmares. They knew it all.

They had the perfect partnership, were the perfect team. But that's ancient history now.

 ** _Did you have to hit me, where I'm weak? Baby, I couldn't breathe_**

 ** _And rub it in so deep, salt in the wound like you're laughing right at me_**

 ** _Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times, you and I_**

 _Her lips were moving, Clint could see that. But he couldn't hear a word of it. All he could do was read her lips and her hands when she bothered to use sign language. Her red lips moved in rapid fire, in which language Clint couldn't tell because he was a shitty lip reader when it was anything but English. She'd taken his ability to hear, used some weird high tech EMP that just shut off his hearing aides. He didn't know why she didn't just destroy them, but he didn't bother to ask. That wasn't his biggest concern. His biggest concern was that she had an arrangement of knifes, all in different sizes and styles, and when you lose one of your senses the others were heightened. And without his sense of hearing, his other four senses were heightened. His sight, his taste, his smell, his ability to feel._

 _Natasha approached him quietly, holding the knife right under his eyes before she started to dig the metal into his flesh. The pain that followed crackled and stretched through his nerves, a pain worse than what was usually experienced. The blood ran freely across his skin, dripping onto the floor beneath him and absorbing into his shirt. She watched as the pain registered across the archers face, she dug her knife deeply into his arm, letting his blood soak the very tips of her fingers._

 _"I TRUSTED YOU!" Clint screamed, although he wasn't quite sure if the words left his mouth or not. But Natasha heard them and she stared at Clint with a blank expression. Her hands immediately started to move, forming the shapes in sign language._

 _'You were wrong to trust me Agent Barton. All it did was bring you here, to your demise. Your instincts are not as good as you believed them to be. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. was a fool to trust me.'_

 _Clint stared at her, the translation hitting him like a sack of bricks. But before he could try to respond, before he could try to scream and make his mouth move to form words, she dug another knife into him. Through skin and muscle, cutting his veins and twisting it so he felt as much pain as possible. Pain so intense, it felt impossible to do anything but scream. Not even breath, just scream until the body gave out to pain._

 ** _'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _You know it used to be mad love_**

 ** _So take a look what you've done_**

 ** _'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _Hey_**

Clint turned, deciding it was better to head back to the tower than take his chances against the assassin. For all he knew she was here looking for him, to finish the job. And if that was the case he'd rather have a man in a metal suit, a super soldier, god, and Hulk backing him up in that fight. It wasn't cowardly, it was smart and strategic. That way, even if she killed him, there'd be someone to finish the job and do what he couldn't nearly ten years ago.

But she spotted him, she recognized that hair and those eyes anywhere and weaved her way through the crowd towards him. But she saw him leaving and picked up the pace, struggling with the decision on whether or not to shout his name. It was likely he'd run. Hell, given the location and situation of things, he'd more than likely run. As far as she knew, he wasn't armed. And as far as he knew, she likely was.

"Clint!" She dared to call his name but he was already out of the coffee shop, already making his way as far from the StarBucks as possible in order to lose her.

She ran after him, catching up to him fairly easy. As she neared him, she sprung onto his back, her unexpected weight sending them both crashing onto the pavement. The moment his knees hit it, she threw her weight to the side so they landed halfway into the alley. Using every once of strength in her upper body, she rolled them all the way in until they were a few feet away from their exit and entrance. Clint threw his elbow unexpectedly into her stomach, catching her off guard long enough to throw her off.

 ** _Now we got problems_**

 ** _And I don't think we can solve them_**

 ** _You made a really deep cut_**

 ** _And, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _Hey_**

Natasha rolled onto her side as she hit the ground, her hand wrapping around Clint's left ankle as she scrambled to his feet. She pulled the leg out from under him, sending him sprawling onto his stomach. Before he could get back up again she was already positioned onto his back, her knees jabbing into his shoulder blades, pinning his arms down by the wrist. She could feel him struggling beneath her and it was only a matter of time before he threw her off.

"Stop struggling Barton," She hissed, her breath tickling the back of his neck tightly. She had leaned in a bit too close, a fact Clint was now becoming aware of, "I'm not here to kill you."

"Really? Because if I didn't know better you're either here to kill me or-" He stopped as it finally dawned onto him, on why she was here other than to kill him.

He jerked his head back, a slightly audible crack resonating between them when skull met skull. It disoriented Natasha enough for Clint switch their positions, pinning her smaller body beneath his.

 ** _Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife_**

 ** _So don't think it's in the past, these kinda wounds they last and they last._**

 ** _Now did you think it all through? All these things will catch up to you_**

 ** _And time can heal but this won't, so if you're coming my way, just don't_**

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Clint sounded like he was shouting, but his voice never rose from the quiet yet angry volume he used. The anger blazed like a triumphant fire in his eyes as he stared down at Natasha Romanov. She watched him silently as he spoke, "You really thought you could come running back to me like this? After all you did? You did worse than added new marks to my skin Natasha. Or should I call you Natalia?"

"That's the name of a past me," She never yelled, she never spoke in the same angry and hostile tone that he was expressing to her. She stayed calm, because otherwise it make Clint all the more angry at her.

"You think we can just push that betrayal behind us and start over like it never happened? You think I'll take you back? You did more than physically scar me, _Natalia_ ," He spat her real name venomously, "You did more than that. You hurt me much deeper, damaged my ability to trust. You destroyed _us_. And we will never recover. We will never go back to how we were."

"I left them for real Clint," Natasha stared at him, trying to find some compassion in his eyes. The same old Clint who had such faith and hope in her. But that Clint was dead. The Clint that would hesitate to kill her was gone, "I missed you."

"Don't pull that crap Romanova."

Natasha pursed her lips in a thin line, slightly frustrated and at a lost of what else to say. She opened her mouth to speak again when Clint interrupted her, venom in his words.

"Suppose I did take you back," It was a mere hypothesis, "Did you even think this all through? What about the Red Room Natalia?-"

"Don't call me that."

But Clint continued, as if she never interrupted him, "What about the KGB? You left them for real this time, all those missions where you faked being an ex-member... Before that was part of your plot remember? Now they'll really be coming for your ass and I am not letting you drag me down with you."

Clint glared down at her his grip tightening on her wrists. The entire time though she never struggled that much beneath him, and she was more or less still now, staring into him. He stared into those green eyes, the emerald orbs he thought belonged to a woman he could love.

He got off of her in one fluid motion and stood, making his way out of the ally, "Keep me out of your shit problems."

 ** _Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times, you and I_**

 ** _'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _You know it used to be mad love_**

 ** _So take a look what you've done_**

 ** _'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _Hey_**

 _'He's_ _such an idiot,' She mused to herself, leaning against the bar counter with a beer in hand. Beside her stood Pepper, a glass of wine perched in her hand as they watched the guys. The five men sat on Stark's expensive couches with a stack of beer cans either on or underneath the coffee table._

 _They sat hunched over a game of monopoly, getting drunk off their asses. For some inexplicable reason, Tony thought it be fun to turn it into a drinking game as well, where everyone had to take a shot for every two hundred dollars they made. So, if someone gained 2,000 fictional dollars they had to take ten shots. The only reason Natasha wasn't playing was because she was running late, having been in a debrief with Hill, and the guys turned it into a dude bonding thing. That and they were getting impatient._

 _"Hey!" Clint slurred, waving his hands in a frantic gesture. He whacked poor Steve across the face, not even noticing as he yelled at Bruce, "You landed on New York Avenue, cough up the cash Bruce!"_

 _Bruce glared, "You don't own New York Avenue, I do!"_

 _"No I do!" Clint started to frantically shuffle through his cards, trying to find the proof he didn't actually have. In reality, Thor was the owner of that space._

 _"Actually guys, Thor-"_

 _"SHUT UP STEVE!" Clint snapped, making the sober soldier back away slightly from the group. Poor Steve, the games banker before he can't possibly get drunk, caught in the middle. Natasha almost considered stepping in to break up the game and stop it from getting out of hand but she was actually a bit amused by this. She looked over at the strawberry blonde as she sipped her wine, glancing at Natasha silently._

 _"The Captain is right my friends, I Thor Odison rule the Avenue of New York."_

 _"No!" Clint held up a card, but in his drunk state didn't realize it said Connecticut Avenue, "See? I owns it! So cough it up Bruce!"_

 _"No friend Bruce, you must pay me!"_

 _"I'm not paying either of you it's my space!"_

 _"Should we stop this?" Pepper whispered to Natasha. For a brief moment the assassin pursed her lips in thought._

 _"Not yet."_

 _"Well fine!" Clint turned, "Don't pay me. But I'm getting my money one way or anothers." Clint clumsily poured himself, another shot, spilling it all over the place and reached out, grabbing a handful of Tony's money. Without even counting it, he drunk the overflowing shot he had poured himself._

 _And thats when Tony joined the fight, tackling Clint for taking his money. He slurred profanities, profanities that Natasha was sure would be really harsh if they could only understand a word of it. But the billionaire was so drunk, that he was incomprehensible when he spoke._

 _Clint kneed Tony in the stomach and shoved him off of him, right into Thor. Thor leapt to his feet, bellowing in anger. Before Clint could do something stupid, something that could land him in a hospital bed, Natasha had wrapped her arms around him and restrained him. She had crossed the distance in a heartbeat, and despite being smaller than him, she had no problem restraining him._

 _"Game over," She glared as Pepper started to pull Tony away, no doubt to go put him to bed where he can't possibly hurt himself. Steve stood, ready to restrain Thor as best he could. But Thor merely turned and disappeared down the hall to go to his room, with Bruce clumsily trying to help Steve clean up the game._

 _"Come on Clint," Natasha turned him around and guided him towards his room._

 _"But the game isn't over with," Clint complained loudly, stumbling. Natasha softly groaned, wrapping his arm around his shoulders so he didn't fall. So she could help him walk._

 _"Well, if you keep playing then you're going to end up with either a hangover and a couple other injuries. That, or alcohol poisoning. And you're no good to me on missions if you're dead."_

 _"You're probably right," Clint's head fell onto her shoulder, "And your no good to me if I'm am dead."_

 _Natasha dragged him into the elevator and pressed the button. She propped him up as best she could against the wall, but his entire body sagged forward._

 _"Hey Natasha," He slurred, his eyes staring up at her but not quite seeing her, "Have I ever told you that you're really sexy when you speak Russian."_

 _"Yes Clint, you've mentioned it many times before," Natasha sighed. She was used to him saying stuff like this, especially when he was drunk. Almost always when he was drunk._

 _"Talk to me in Russian," Clint blinked, rocking on his feet, "Let me hear you talk to me in Russian."_

 _Natasha sighed, and dragged him out of the elevator the moment it opened. She looked at him,"Clint, you're drunk. You're going to bed."_

 _"I'm not drunk," Clint ripped himself away from her and immediately fell on the ground, so drunk that he couldn't even stand. Natasha reached out to catch him before he fell, but he merely brought her down with him._

 _"Smooth Barton," Natasha turned to look at him, just in time to see the archer cracking up in a hysterical fit of laughter. She couldn't help but crack a grin at his contagious laughter and join in a bit._

All of the ememories they had together, every story they could flashback to, those stories meant nothing now. They weren't friends anymore, they weren't allies or partners, Natasha desecrated those memories by betraying S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, Clint.

 ** _Now we got problems_**

 ** _And I don't think we can solve them_**

 ** _You made a really deep cut_**

 ** _And, baby, now we got bad blood_**

 ** _Hey_**

Natasha knew that she had hurt Clint, she wasn't an idiot. She knew she hurt him, the Avengers, everyone who ever trusted her as an agent. She hurt them more than just physically, she did more than physically injure them especially Clint. But a part of her, the good seed that Clint and the Avengers unknowingly planted in her craved their good influence. Craved their presence. Guilt clawed its way through her heart, clawed through her from the inside out.

When she entered S.H.I.E.L.D., she was always a double agent. She had always intended on betraying them, and being so trusting to a few hand picked individuals just made her cover all the more convincing. The KGB had never expected the Avengers initiative, and if it hadn't actually been used she probably would have betrayed them sooner. But the Avengers were formed, she was an Avenger. She gathered more information for the KGB. She's always intended on betraying them, but something in her broke when she did betray them. She actually liked being one of the good guys and she never really knew it until she revealed herself as the bad guy.

So she left, she left the KGB to be the hero she'd been pretending to be. She came looking for Clint, because she had honestly hoped he'd take her back. She thought that she could fix _them_. That she could be the hero he thought she was. All Natasha wanted was her archer back, even if he was out of the spy and super hero gig. She just wanted to be with him. To patch them back together.

And he was telling her to fuck off.

Natasha reached out and caught his shoulder, spinning him around to stare back at her, "Clint, I'm sorry. You can't really be walking away from me. Think of everything we've been through."

 _ **Band-aids don't fix bullet holes**_

 _ **You say sorry just for show**_

 _ **If you live like that, you live with ghosts (ghosts)**_

 _ **Band-aids don't fix bullet holes (hey)**_

 _ **You say sorry just for show (hey)**_

 _ **If you live like that, you live with ghosts (hey)**_

 _ **If you love like that blood runs cold**_

' _ **Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **You know it used to be mad love (mad love)**_

 _ **So take a look what you've done**_

 _ **'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **Hey**_

"Everything we've been through?" Clint echoed as a question, staring down at her with a glare. His grey eyes met her green orbs, "You think your little apology will make me forget about the pain you put us through? Bring us back to before you revealed yourself as the deceptive bitch you really are?"

"Clint," Natasha stared at him, "I promise I will never betray you again."

"I know you won't," He says, "Because you're dead to me."

Natasha stared at him silently, her green eyes widening at the heavy implication of his words. She was dead to him. She meant nothing to him anymore.

"Don't say things like that Barton," She whispered emptily, her hand falling away from his shoulder.

Clint stared down at her, getting angrier and angrier at her. She lies to him, she lies and betrays not only him but the Avengers and suddenly comes back looking for some sort of forgiveness. What Natasha was trying to do was exactly like putting a band-aid over a bullet hole. You could cover the unsightly wound but the damage behind it is still there, and not even the bandaid can change that. They couldn't go back to before her betrayal, because the pain she caused would always still be there.

"Why?" He asked, "You're trying to live in the past Natalia. You're living with ghosts, people who don't exist anymore."

"I'm done being who I am now. I'm done being the villain the KGB has not only made me out to be, but someone who will fight you again. I don't want to fight you all. I made a mistake ok? I want to be the hero I used to be."

"You were never a hero," Clint glared, "You were a spy. A spy for the wrong people. You had ten years to come clean. Ten years to decide that you liked being the hero for once and give yourself up to S.H.I.E.L.D., to Fury. But you didn't. You are not the woman I thought I loved."

Natasha paused for a moment, holding her breath, "You loved me?"

"No, I loved Natasha Romanov. I loved a cover. You're Natalia Romanova. I never loved you. I was sent to kill you. And I regret not following orders."

Without another word, the archer turned and made his way out of the alley, melting into the New York crowds and disappearing.

 _ **Now we got problems**_

 _ **And I don't think we can solve them (think we can solve them)**_

 _ **You made a really deep cut**_

 _ **And, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **(Hey)**_

Natasha stood there, staring at where Clint Barton once stood, staring at his ghost as he walked right out of her life and disappeared, right into the crowd of New York. She stared at the ghost of the man who once loved her, the man who would risked everything to give she a redemption. To make her a hero.

She could have prevented this. She could have come clean and told S.H.I.E.L.D. about the KGB, about her true intentions. Maybe they would have respected her for coming clean and telling the truth, or maybe they'd have thrown her in prison and melt the key. Or maybe they would have shot her dead right then and there. But they all sounded so much better than the consequences she was facing now. If only she hadn't lead the KGB in an attack against S.H.I.E.L.D., if only she hadn't help destroy S.H.I.E.L.D., if only she hadn't betrayed the only people who truly cared about her.

If only she had come clean, then Clint wouldn't hate her. Then she would still have him. Him and Steve and Tony and Bruce and Thor. But she didn't, and now she'd damaged all of her relationships to the point of no return.

She had no one. Clint was right, she wasn't Natasha Romanov. Natasha Romanov didn't exist. She was Natalia Romanova. A traitor to her friends and enemies.

 _ **'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **You know it used to be mad love**_

 _ **So take a look what you've done (look what you've done)**_

 _ **'Cause, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **Hey**_

Clint Barton walked all the way to Avenger's Tower, never looking back. Well, every now and then he would make sure he wasn't being followed, but he never looked back in the sense that he was regretting his decision. It wasn't that he didn't love Natasha Romanov anymore, it was that he had accepted the heartbreaking truth. He accepted that Natasha Romanov never actually existed. He had accepted that the woman he loved was as real as Natalie Rushman. No, the woman he was with in that alley was not the love of his life, just another spy who should have died at the end of his arrow.

 _ **Now we got problems**_

 _ **And I don't think we can solve them**_

 _ **You made a really deep cut**_

 _ **And, baby, now we got bad blood**_

 _ **Hey**_

And he knew that no matter how hard she tried to win him back. No matter how hard she tried to prove herself a hero to him. No matter how sorry she is or how many KGB bases she destroys, he will never forgive her and take her back. He was a fool to trust her the first time. He will never make that mistake again.

* * *

 **End of the chapter. :D You have no idea how long I'd been dying to write this. I'm sorry if it's long. I'm sorry if it hurts your feels. I'm sorry. It hurts me too. I'm a big Clint/Tasha shipper.**

 **Ok, well, I gotta really thank Dizilla because I sent her a small segment of the story and she really liked it.**

 **And independentalto. I love her story All the Reason's Why. It's just a series of beautiful one shots and she does an arrangement of ships. She's a very loyal Romanogers fan who has actually gotten to me ship that ship. She does so much more than romanogers, she has Stucky, Natasha/Skye, Mockingnerd, Hunter/Bobbi (I forgot the ship name), she does so much. She's open me up to different ships that I'd honestly didn't look at. Perhaps I'll do a series of one shots too, with music. And if I do, I gotta honestly thank her because she's so good at it. And she gave me the idea for the title.**


	2. Should've Been Us

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you.**

* * *

 **Should've Been Us- By Tori Kelly**

* * *

 ** _Walking round with my head down_**

 ** _But I can't hide with these high heels on_**

 ** _Downtown in a thick crowd_**

 ** _But it's just you that my mind is on_**

 ** _Dressed up, got my heart messed up_**

 ** _You got yours and I got mine_**

 ** _It's unfair that I still care_**

 ** _And I wonder where you are tonight_**

It been three years since she lost Steve. Three years since he heroically piloted that HYDRA plane into the ice and perished with it. She spent two and a half years alone, missing him. From his friendly and hopeful blue eyes to his messy but militarily acceptable blonde hair. And if Peggy wanted to she would have remained single for her entire life, just for Steve. However, they both knew that he would have wanted her to move on. To which she endured six painful, humiliating, and heartbreaking months.

Her heels went click clack on the sidewalk, the Brit lowering her head as she maneuvered with great caution and skill through the grounded New York streets. She was on her way home, the only thing on her mind being her beloved Captain. It was only her luck that she fell in love with such a moral, honorable, bachelor such as Steve and can't find anyone as respectable.

It was so unfair, to not only lose the perfect man for her but to be constantly pinning away for him. It's unfair that she can't be happy, that she's constantly guilty of betraying him even though he's dead. It been three years, why can't her heart get over Steve and be optimistic about finding a new man? Why can't she go out on one date without feeling as guilty as a sinner in church?

 ** _Thinking it could be different_**

 ** _But maybe we missed it yea_**

 ** _Thinking it could be different_**

 ** _It could, it could_**

When the war first started Peggy told herself that she would not get involved with any military man. She would not put herself through that heartbreak, that sickening thing that clung to the despair of a war struck widow. She would wait for the war to be over, when the Allies had won and there was peace across the globe.

For some reason, Steve Rogers convinced her that they could have been different. That she wouldn't lose him. That he'd fight through the rest of this war and still come home alive. She saw Steve and fell to the same illusion that every woman with a man in the war goes through. She believed in the same 'it won't happen to us' illusion, that she wouldn't have lost him in the war. And she faced the same heartbreak she told herself she wouldn't. She always saw him marching him from the war, the Axis and Hydra defeated, right back to her. She always saw him coming home.

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **Shoulda been a fire, shoulda been the perfect storm**_

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **Coulda been the real thing, now we'll never know for sure, ooh**_

 _ **We were crazy, but amazing, baby we both know**_

 _ **It should've been us, us**_

 _ **It, it, it should've been us**_

They worked so well together during the war, while she worked behind the battle fronts planning the assaults Steve would be leading the charge into every Hydra Base, considering every bit of advice she gave him before he acted. He was the only man to ever consider her opinion and respect it, he was probably the only man who wanted her opinion.

They could have been something, he could have been the one for her. Of all the men she'd come across, of all the men who tried to hit on her, of all the men who broke her heart for some blonde bimbo, he could have been the one for her. If only she had fallen for him sooner, if only she had realized she loved him sooner, if only they got around to it sooner. Maybe if she had told him how she felt when she saw that floozy kissing him, she would have had more time with him. She could have taught him how to dance. But now she'll never know. It was only speculation now.

 ** _Back and forth like a tug of war_**

 ** _What's it all for, do I want it back_**

 ** _I still got a little flame for ya_**

 ** _Even though you drove me mad_**

 ** _Now and then, I pretend_**

 ** _That it's you when I close my eyes_**

 ** _You got yours, I got mine_**

 ** _But I wonder where you are tonight_**

"Cheer up Peg, so that bozo wasn't the one," Howard encouraged before taking a hearty gulp of his coffee. The two of them sat across from each other in a diner, one of them drinking coffee while the other had some hot tea. There weren't that many people there, it was an extremely slow hour. Which was probably good and bad, good because there weren't that many people around to see them together and get any ideas but bad because all the woman he had to look at were the moderately okay waitresses and Peggy. And Howard Stark would never try to get with the Captain's girl. Ever. He had some respect and morality.

The moment he found out that Peggy was ready to find someone new, to find herself a new man, he'd been looking left and right to sett her up and ensure her happiness. He would never admit it to anyone, except maybe Jarvis, but he felt he not only owed Peggy for saving his reputation, he owed Steve just as well. Even though he didn't know Steve that well, he liked the guy and he was really hoping that after the war he could have some more fun teaching Steve some things about woman. But Steve died and was gone forever, as far as Howard could imagine, and he left a beautiful, brilliant Brit to mourn for him.

"The next guy will be the one," He promises.

"I'm afraid sir," Jarvis interrupted, "That perhaps you should stop playing Cupid and let Miss Carter to find someone in her own."

Unlike Howard, Jarvis was extremely sensitive to women's feelings and feared that his employer was doing more harm than good to their friend. Jarvis had always held a respect for the woman, there were not many people like her. She was to the Captain as his wife Anna was to him. And a love like that could not be forced or forgotten. He respected Peggy too much, and was constantly trying to convince Howard to not meddle in her love life. Trying, but constantly failing. So, Peggy was caught in a tug of war between them. Of either going through with Howard's attempts to bring her closer to happiness or agreeing with Jarvis and turning down her many blind dates.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about your own love life before trying to fix mine Howard?" Peggy asked as she sipped her tea. She glanced over at Jarvis, the man sitting to her right and Howard's left. They formed a triangle around their table.

"Come on Peg," Howard sighed, "Don't you want to love someone again? Someone other than Steve?"

Peggy's silence was the answer, resulting in Jarvis to send a disapproving glare at Howard. Of course she wanted to be in love again, to have someone love her as much as she loved them. But she still loved Steve, and in a way that was constantly holding her back. Even though that clueless soldier drove her a bit bonkers.

"What?" Howard asked, genuinely confused on what he did wrong. What did he say to upset her?

"Sir, you really need to be more sensitive and cautious about what you say."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Peggy briefly closed her eyes, their little argument fell on deaf ears as she thought of Steve. She could almost picture him now, sitting between her and Howard, no doubt talking about the jerk he got into a fight with because he was harassing some poor girl. Maybe even arguing a bit with Howard about whether or not he should give up another vial of blood for scientific research. Or perhaps maybe he'd just be doodling on a napkin, she could never quite tell what he might do if he was here. With a sigh, she opened up her eyes to look at them both.

 _'Oh my darling, where are you?'_ She thought as she leaned back in her seat and finished the very last of her tea. Was Steve looking over her now? Or was he the guardian angel of someone much more less fortunate than herself.

 ** _It should've been us_**

 ** _Shoulda been a fire, shoulda been the perfect storm_**

 ** _It should've been us_**

 ** _Coulda been the real thing, now we'll never know for sure, ooh_**

 ** _We were crazy, but amazing, baby we both know_**

 ** _It should've been us, us_**

 ** _It, it, it should've been us_**

"I really do appreciate you coming Miss Carter," Jarvis was pacing back and forth nervously, rubbing his hands back and forth quite nervously. The entire room echoed with his footsteps, and from the far right wall, Howard sat aloof in a chair.

"Calm down Jarvis, she's going to be fine. I promise you, I've made sure that the best doctors are with her."

"And I most appreciate it sir, it's just-" Jarvis stared at the two with such wide eyes, filled with such anxiety and nervous energy Peggy couldn't help but rest a hand on his shoulder.

"Anna will be fine," Peggy assured, "As will your baby."

Nine months had flown by, at least for Howard and Peggy. For Jarvis, well it wasn't so easy. The poor man had to deal with Howard Stark during the day, and when he got home he had to manage not just the chores he usually took up at home but also mood swings and food cravings. And he was terrified that something would go wrong, like the baby wouldn't be healthy or his dear Anna would pass away in the process. Peggy and Howard did everything they could to convince him that it was going to be ok, Howard making sure the best doctors were tending to Anna.

"Oh, I just hope you both are right," Jarvis stopped his pacing and took a seat beside Howard. Peggy let her mind wander, wondering if Steve would be this nervous. Actually, that was a stupid question because he would have a million reasons to worry. Just like Jarvis.

"Jarvis, you know it is very rare for me to agree with Stark. Trust me when I say that we can't possibly be wrong if we are agreeing."

Jarvis nods, wringing his hands together as he waited impatiently. Peggy sat quietly, next to him, staring at the floor. If she was still with Steve, if they were still together, would they have been able to have a baby? It's possible, but Steve was so sickly before the serum. Would the baby be sickly? Would the baby be deformed because of the super soldier serum? Would the baby even come out alive? Would she? And a baby of Captain America, that baby would need as much protection as the president, if not more. If the child of Captain America ever fell into Soviet hands, who knew what would happen?

But in a sad, nostalgic, and heartbreaking way, it was something nice to think about. Whatever happened, Peggy knew that the baby would be just like them. Talented and brave like Steve, and smart like herself. And they'd be crazy for the child, crazy for an equally amazing baby.

A nurse quietly entered the small waiting room, approaching the group, "Are either of you gentleman Mr. Edmund Jarvis?"

Jarvis immediately stood, "I am."

The nurse smiled at him and beckoned him to follow her, "Right this way please."

Peggy and Howard stood, following after Jarvis as the nurse led them towards the delivery room. Jarvis paused in the doorway, taking in the sight before him of his wife, her hair limb and a bit sweaty. In her arms was a tiny little bundle of joy, a baby that was crying softly. Anna smiled over at Jarvis tiredly, struggling to calm the baby down.

"Come here honey, come meet your new little girl."

"It's a girl?" Jarvis whispered delighted, staring at the baby with wide eyes. He approached his wife and new daughter, holding his arms out eagerly to hold her. Anna graciously handed him the baby and Peggy couldn't help but fell awestruck by how right it looked to see Jarvis holding such a tiny little baby in his arms. He held the baby so gingerly in his arms it was like she was a delicate piece of china.

"So, what did ya name the little ankle biter?" Howard asked, watching Jarvis hold his new daughter with a small smile. The sight of his loyal friend holding his new born daughter was just so sweet, so adorable. Almost made him want to settle down and have a family. Almost.

"Rachel, Rachel Elizabeth Jarvis."

Jarvis turned to Peggy, having somehow managed to calm his little Rachel down, "Miss Carter, would you like to-"

"Of course," Peggy enthusiastically held her arms out to hold the little baby, not even letting him finish his question.

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh_**

 ** _It should've been us, yeah_**

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh_**

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh_**

 ** _It should've been us_**

 ** _It, it, it should've been us_**

Little Rachel squirmed on Peggy's arms, the little baby did this to everyone who wasn't her parents. Peggy held her carefully not wanting the child to slip through her fingers but not wanting to leave any bruises on the child's tender skin. She sat quietly in a chair, holding the baby for Anna while she talked with a few friends.

Peggy had at first found it a bit peculiar that Anna insisted on waiting for the child to be born before having a baby shower. But then Anna explained to her how woman in her religion did this because, god forbid, the mother lost the baby or babies and it made sense.

But looking down at the baby in her arms, watching Anna open the gifts, being here, it made that familiar sad longing slowly crawl it's way through her chest. She stared down at Rachel in her arms, trying to get the child to settle down despite it being a futile effort. In a way she felt like this should be her and Steve, that they should be the ones holding a baby shower. But just as quickly as it came, it went away because Rachel suddenly stopped squirming in her arms and made gurgling sounds. She couldn't help but smile at the baby, at the innocent little face in her arms.

Steve and her could have had a baby just like this, such an innocent little spirit looking up at her for protection and love, but she would protect and love little Rachel just the same.

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh oh_**

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh_**

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh oh_**

 ** _Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh_**

Peggy ducked down behind a tree, the ring of gunfire echoing in her head. Her breathing came out in uneven little huffs, and she quietly scanned herself for any injuries. Maybe a few scrapes and bruises underneath the jacket but no blood.

Thompson sent her into Russia, she was one of their only agents who understood the language and he thought her pretty face and British accent would keep the poor soviets unsuspecting. After all, this is mostly a war between the U.S.A and U.S.S.R, it's Americans that they'd be looking for as spies. He sent her in hoping she could make contact with a possible defector, someone who just wanted out of the country and out of the madness. The deal was that if he told Peggy everything and gave her some evidence about what the Soviet Union has been up to, she and the Howling Commandos will escort him and his family across the border. Turns out it was a trap. A trap that Peggy fell right into.

She had insisted on coming into the city alone. She thought that it would be quicker with just herself, she wouldn't need to translate for the boys and she could easily blend in. No offense to Dugan, but that mustache would only make him stand out like a white thumb in a sea of red. Peggy really regretted having the guys wait for her out in the surrounding woods now. She needed their fire power more than ever.

Hearing them fastly approaching, Peggy scrambled to pull out her radio. She stood, flattening herself against the bark before she spoke in it, praying she kept her voice low enough for the guys to hear her but not be detected yet.

"This is Carter," She winced as the radio crackled, "Requesting backup."

 _"Peggy? What's wrong? Where are you?_ " She was somewhat thankful that it was Jones answering instead of Dugan. But the concern was still there no matter who answered, this was Steve's girl after all. The Howling Commandos saw Peggy as an honorary member, they had the highest respect for her. But also the need to keep her from dying, some of them feared if they did let it happen, Steve would haunt them from his icy grave.

Peggy started to list instructions and directions, when she heard footsteps getting closer and just stopped, "Jones, Jones just take the guys and don't get killed or captured ok? They're coming upon me."

 _"Don't worry Peggy we're coming for you."_

Peggy flicked the radio off and stashed it back where she had momentarily hidden it, turning with her gun raised to face death or capture.

 ** _Thinking it could be different_**

 ** _But maybe we missed it_**

 ** _Thinking it could be different_**

 ** _It could, it could_**

It was so dark and cold in this, well, Peggy had yet to decide if this was an interrogation room or dungeon. The walls were made of stone, and the metal chair she was handcuffed to was bolted down to the floor. She couldn't stop the chatter of her teeth or the slight shiver that made her body tremble even if she wanted to. They had no heating in the room whatsoever and had removed the winter coat she'd been captured in.

They tried to get information out of her, anything and everything she knew about the SSR and it's agents, but she kept her mouth shut. Peggy refused to betray her allies at the SSR, to betray Agents Thompson and Sousa, to betray Stark to the enemy. And so they beat her, she was pretty sure her nose was broken and would need to be re broken in order to heal properly. It was lucky for her that she had seen these violent methods used by her fellow agents, she knew that they could only go so far without killing her. Especially when she hadn't said a word about anything.

Peggy's stomach grumbled persistently, feeling empty and hollow. The soviets fed her sparingly, giving her just enough food to keep her alive but not enough to alleviate her hunger. And perhaps it was the concussion that they dealt her or maybe it was her hunger finally getting the better of her but she kept thinking that this shouldn't have happened. That this should be different. That she shouldn't be held captive like some damsel in distress and that Steve was going to come bursting through that door any moment with his shield, ready to sweep her off her feet and bring her back home.

When Peggy heard frantic shouting outside her door, most of it in Russian, she got hopeful and optimistic. She heard gunfire, and with wide eyes she dared to hope that her rescue was at hand. She struggled against the metal cuffs, trying hard to not cry from the pain and happiness that struggled to dominate her.

"Carter?" The shout was faint, having to travel through the thick metal door and stone walls to reach her. But Peggy heard it anyways and started to shout back. She almost for a brief moment shouted out Steve's name, thinking maybe it was him but remembered that he would have shouted Peggy.

The the moment the light came in through her dark little room, she immediately closed her eyes and flinched back. The footsteps were quick and light, and as Peggy tried to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, she felt someone tugging at the handcuffs for a moment before they disappeared.

"Don't worry Carter, we're gonna get you out of here," Peggy frowns when she hears Thompson's voice, extremely confused on when he came to Russia. She wasn't aware that the Howling Commandos called in back up to come get here. She struggled to stand on her own, but her head started to swim and her knees buckled. Thompson quickly reached over and caught her, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. It sort of scared him how thin she looked, how cold she felt, how there were bruises around her throat. But what scared him the most was how out of it she was, the Agent Carter he knew was more focused than this.

"We're gonna get you home," He whispered, adjusting his hold on her before running out of the room, trying to not jar any of her other injuries.

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **Shoulda been a fire, shoulda been the perfect storm**_

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **Coulda been the real thing, now we'll never know for sure, ooh**_

 _ **We were crazy, but amazing, baby we both know**_

 _ **It should've been us, us**_

 _ **It, it, it should've been us**_

Howard sighed, staring at Peggy's sleeping form from outside her hospital room. This wouldn't have happened if Steve was around, if the Captain was still here she wouldn't have gone in there alone. If Steve was there he would have never let those assholes lay a single finger on Peggy.

He wished Steve was here, he made Peggy so happy. They would have been an amazing team in Russia, they'd be an amazing team in anything. Maybe even as parents. Howard could try all he wanted but he knew that none of the men he set Peggy up with would he good enough. They have Captain America to compete with for crying out loud, the super soldier. The first super hero. No one can compete with that chivalry.

"Sir, I have your coffee," Jarvis whispered. He handed the mug over to the inventor, both turning their eyes onto Peggy. They were extremely lucky that she wasn't dead, that the Russians didn't decide to just kill her on sight.

"This wouldn't have happened if we still had Steve," Howard muttered, sipping his coffee. Jarvis stared at his comrade with a solemn expression. Neither of them knew if Steve could have prevented this from happening, being close to Captain America could put Peggy in greater danger.

"You can't know that for sure sir," Jarvis sighed, but Howard wasn't paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were on Peggy, the Brit murmuring ever so quietly in her sleep. Jarvis felt his own heart shatter when he realized that Peggy was calling for Steve, for someone she wanted to be with her but wasn't.

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh**_

 _ **It should've been us, yeah**_

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh, oh oh oh**_

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh**_

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **It, it, it should've been us**_

"Howard?" Peggy quietly approached the inventor in his lap, watching her step cautiously. She learned early on to watch her step in Stark's labs, you never knew for certain what he had lying around and one wrong step could have a metal screw piercing your foot.

The inventor in question was slumped in his chair, his dark hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. Peggy could only place his expression as being upset, she couldn't decide which emotion was dominant: frustration, disappointment, sadness. He tried so hard to find Steve's body, or at least the shield for Peggy and all he found was that stupid blue glowing cube. Which, yeah, was probably good for them but that was not intended. Howard Stark was trying to find Captain America, and all he found was a blue glowing energy source they had no way of harnessing.

"Howard get up," Peggy sighed, "You can't hide in here forever."

"I'm not hiding," Howard scowled, crossing his arms like a stubborn child.

"Is this about the cube?" Peggy frowns, realizing immediately that it was about the cube. She placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder, knowing exactly how he felt. How badly she wanted it to be Steve, just to have that closure and give him a proper burial. But it was that glowing blue cube, and while Peggy was grateful that the SSR found it before the Soviet Union, Leviathan, or some scrambled Hydra members found it, it wasn't her beloved captain. She had mixed emotions about this, just as much as he did.

"Howard," She sighed, "You did your best to find him, you know that. So you didn't find him, you found Hydra's weapons instead. Now we can make sure it's never used again."

Howard didn't say anything for a long time until he gave a frustrated sigh and kicked his desk, "I could have sworn it was him. We've searched an entire ten mile perimeter around the spot where we found it but still no captain. I can't understand it Peggy, I can't understand how we can't even find that stupid shield!"

Anger flashed in his eyes, he stared at Peggy, raw emotion burning in his eyes. The Brit in question sighed, looking at Howard, "We can't give up Howard. You can't give up. You're Howard Starks, the most stubborn, pigheaded individual I've ever crossed paths with. If anyone can find him, if anyone can find his body it's you."

Of course, Peggy had no idea how wrong she was. But she had faith that Howard would be able to find Steve. If he could find the cube by accident, then he should be able to find Steve.

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh**_

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh**_

 _ **You know it should've been us**_

 _ **Oh oh, oh oh**_

 _ **It should've been us**_

 _ **It, it, it should've been us**_

His grave stone looked so out of place. It was so clean, so new compared to the other aging headstones despite being three years old. Her small bouquet of flowers rested beside it, the bright red, blue, and white petals popping out against the dark green grass. Peggy knelt down before it, staring at the engraved rock with watery, stinging eyes.

Even though the casket was empty, Steve didn't belong here. He should be with her, holding her and maybe starting a family with her. He should be with her, protecting the people of America and being the hero she always saw him as. Even if he wasn't being Captain America anymore. They should be together, he shouldn't be dead. He shouldn't be gone. He should be with her.

* * *

 **To the poor guest named Jenna who asked for some happy Romanogers, I'm extremely sorry. I had started this before you reviewed.**

 **For those of you who have seen Agent Carter I'm sorry I didn't add anything about Thompson and Sousa both vying for her affections. I didn't know if everyone had seen it and I was scared if I did it I'd have to choose between them both and honestly I could never do that.**

 **Also, in the Jewish religion, baby showers are held after the baby's birth incase god forbid something happens to the baby. If I remember Agent Carter right, Anna Jarvis is Jewish.**

 **This got harder and harder to write in the end. But persistent paid off. And I got ideas for "Fight Song", "You Belong with Me", "Wait for me to Come home", "When I see you again", and others. Other songs I can't name right now because I can't remember them.**

 **Please review.**


	3. Photograph

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you.**

* * *

 **Photograph- By Ed Sheeran**

 **Warning: AU**

* * *

 ** _Loving can hurt_**

 ** _Loving can hurt sometimes_**

 ** _But it's the only thing that I know_**

 ** _When it gets hard_**

 ** _You know it can get hard sometimes_**

 ** _It is the only thing that makes us feel alive_**

If Steve Rogers knew anything for certain, it was that love could be more trouble than it's worth. If he knew any one thing in this giant expanse of a universe, it was that love was a curse and a gift all at once. That loving someone brought you at peace, loving someone made the world seem livable in no matter how chaotic and corrupt society seemed, but it also opened you up for the worse pain imaginable.

Steve Rogers was no stranger to this kind of pain. Love enjoyed torturing him, love enjoyed putting him through trial after trial after trial.

His first trial started when he was in the eighth grade, at the spring semi formal. He was a frail, asthmatic, shrimp of a boy surrounded by manly giants that towered above him like skye scrapers. Poor Steve was surrounded by the crushing blow of peer pressure, the expectation to show up to the formal with a girl as a date. He was only thirteen years old, almost fourteen, and even though he promised his mom that he would never fall to peer pressure he didn't want to be the only guy dancing alone. When it came to drugs and bad decisions, Steve had no qualm with saying no and walking away. But Steve didn't want to be alone at the dance, he didn't want to be one of those sad pathetic guys who stood off to the side all night waiting for a dance. He went to his very first dance with Peggy Carter.

 _The decorated gymnasium wasn't as impressive as Steve had made it out in his head. The thirteen year old was deeply disappointed by what looked like a lack of effort in decorating the gym. Sure there were colorful streamers attached to the walls and the side of the stacked bleachers, black and purple balloons tied to the bleachers and snack table, the lights were more or less off with a few strobe lights near the DJ's set up, but he'd really been expecting more than this. The gym was loud and crowded, it felt like his entire grade was crammed into the gym._

 _On his left stood his date, Peggy Carter. The fourteen year old Brit had moved to America and transferred to Kennedy Junior High right in the beginning of November. Apparently her dad got a job transfer, and Steve got to know the girl a bit in the two classes they shared together: math and history. She had the biggest smile on her face, and every few minutes she was waving and saying high to some random student that she likely knew. Steve found it hard to believe that Peggy used to be as unpopular as he was, getting teased because of her accent and her lack of common knowledge on American history. Of course, when Steve really thought about it, was the civil war and Abraham Lincoln_ _that_ _important in British history?_

 _Her hair went down past her shoulders, falling in beautiful curls that framed her face. She wore light pink lipgloss and carefully done grey eyeshadow that gradually got darker to give she the perfect smoky eye. She wore a beautiful short sleeve dress, a beautiful black dress that had a red white and blue belt going around her waist in the design of a British flag. She wore black heels, which made her even taller than usual compared to him._

 _And on his right was his best buddy James "Bucky" Barnes. About four to six inches taller than the blonde, Bucky had a more athletic physique than Steve, although he wasn't buff and beefy like every stereotypical football player. Bucky wore a nice green button down shirt and black slacks, his dark brown hair combed back. Compared to his best friend, Steve felt like his blonde hair was unruly and his light blue shirt looked like a circus tent on him. Bucky's date had been Daisy "Skye" Johnson, one of the best singers in their schools choir._

 _The girls had immediately insisted on dancing, and before Steve knew it he lost sight of his best friend in the crowd of dancing teens. The poor teen couldn't help but feel embarrassed, he hadn't the slightest idea how to dance whatsoever and knew without a doubt that he looked like an idiot. But Peggy simply smiled at him, having the time of her life. If Steve was really making a fool of himself she didn't seem to care or notice._

 _Out of breath, Steve paused to catch his breath. Peggy watched him for a moment in genuine reasonable concern, watching to see if he was close to having an asthma attack. Seeing he wasn't though, she relaxed._

 _"You wanna go get some punch?"_

 _Steve nodded, and together they made their way out towards the snack table. They both poured themselves some punch, Steve drinking it almost greedily. Peggy smiled at him over her glass. Steve didn't realize it, but she had a bit of a crush on him since January when she started to help him with his math homework. This was sort of a dream come true for the Brit._

 _When Steve finished his punch, Peggy leaned in and gave him a kiss right in the lips. It wasn't a measly little peck on the lips, but it wasn't a full blown make out session, it was a gentle kiss that caught the blue eyed blonde totally off guard._

 _Steve immediately tensed up and moved away, staring at Peggy shocked. She was a very beautiful girl, that he could not deny, but kissing her felt wrong. It didn't feel right, he didn't think of her like that. She was beautiful, she had that pretty English accent but Steve didn't like her in that way. Nonetheless he felt really guilty when he saw the scared and disappointed expression on her face. He had no idea what to do and simply ran put of the gym, holing himself up in the boys bathroom._

Peggy had to enlist the help of Bucky just to get Steve out of the bathroom to talk to her. And when Bucky finally convinced the blonde to get out there and talk to her, the poor guy wouldn't stop apologizing. He explained to Peggy that while he liked her, he didn't like her like a girlfriend and kissing her didn't feel right. And while she was disappointed, Peggy understood and admitted to Steve that even if he doesn't feel the same way that he will always have a special place in her heart as a friend.

But Steve spent most of the summer struggling with what this meant. He didn't understand, he didn't know what this meant. And he was scared to talk to his mom and dad about this, what if this meant something bad? What if they stopped loving him? He didn't know how to talk to them about this and was scared with what they might say. He didn't even talk to Bucky about it, he just struggled with it himself.

By August though he knew, he knew that he was gay. And for a very brief moment it scared him, because he didn't know how his family and best friend would react. He didn't want to lose them.

 ** _We keep this love in a photograph_**

 ** _We made these memories for ourselves_**

 ** _Where our eyes are never closing_**

 ** _Hearts are never broken_**

 ** _Times forever frozen still_**

The day Bucky told Steve he was joining the army, the day Bucky left for training was the hardest day of eighteen year old Steve's life. Their entire relationship, the time they spent with each other had ended to make way for real life. All that time playing video games, playing football, going to the movies, it was all on hold until Bucky came back home.

He only had the memories to comfort him, the memories to remind him of how lucky he was to have Bucky in his life. That and a picture.

It was Steve's sixteenth birthday, and he wanted to go to Coney Island more than anything because surprisingly he had never actually been there. Bucky and Peggy saw this as nearly criminal, even Peggy had been to Coney Island, and immediately agreed to take him. So Steve's mom agreed to take the three of them up there for the blonde's birthday, letting the three go off to do whatever they wanted while she sat on the beach _._

 _Steve stared up at the most famous roller coaster in all of America. Two thousand six hundred forty feet of track that rose 85 feet in the air, the shrieks coming from it making him really nervous. He stared up at it with wide eyes, looking over at Bucky and Peggy. They'd been on the Tickler, the Brooklyn Flyer, the Circus Coaster, the Coney Island Hang Glider, played Ice Ball, Water Racer, and Frog Bog._

 _Peggy took the smallest step back, something that didn't go unnoticed by Bucky. He turned to look at Peggy with a devious smirk, "What's wrong Carter? Scared?"_

 _"No," But at the raised eyebrow Bucky was giving her she sighed, "You guys go ahead, I'm gonna get something to eat. I'll wait."_

 _Peggy had long gotten over her crush on Steve, and ever since the ninth grade had become a new addition to their very tiny group. The boys saw her as their respectable big and little sister. And seeing that Peggy was a bit nervous about the Cyclone Roller Coaster, the brunette immediately backed off._

 _"Alright, we'll text you when we get off the ride and look for you in the Cyclone Cafe ok?"_

 _"Gotcha," Peggy nods and smiled, "Give me your prizes so you don't lose them on the ride."_

 _"Good idea," Steve agrees, handing over the little Pikachu plushie that he won at the Water Racer game. Bucky nods, handing Peggy his neon green and orange snake before the two teen boys entered the line for the roller coaster._

 _Waiting in line, Steve felt anxiety claim him and forced himself to not give in to his nerves. Bucky chuckled at his friend as they inched closer and closer to the ride, "Calm down Steve, it's not that bad."_

 _"I know..." He says, staring up at the roller coaster as the screams of it's passengers reached him. When they finally did get to the front of the line, Bucky had this contagious, excited grin on his face. When an empty car did pull up, he grabbed Steve by the arm and made a b-line straight for the last car._

 _"What are you doing?" Steve asked, getting really nervous now. They always tried to get into the first car on every roller coaster they rode._

 _"We're gonna take a photo on the way down, and I don't want people to photo bomb us ok?"_

 _Steve and Bucky sat side by side in the cart, Steve gripping the safety railing like his life depended on it. When the roller coaster started it's ascend, Bucky carefully pulled out his camera and tightly secured it to his wrist before turning it on. Steve involuntarily whimpered as he dared to glance down and felt his stomach plummet towards the earth._

 _"Hey," Bucky turned to look at Steve, "It's going to be ok. You know I wouldn't have you rode this thing if it wasn't fun or safe."_

 _"We're just so high up and this ride is just so old."_

 _Bucky placed a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder, giving him a confident smile, "Don't worry Steve, you're going to be fine. I promise ok? Now just hang on tight and get ready for the drop ok. And Steve, try to look at the camera ok._

 _Steve was so focused in not letting go, on not dying that he failed to notice Bucky wrap his arm around him to better hold the camera. He didn't even notice Bucky pressing the button. He was just too focused on not dying, so much so he hadn't noticed until the ride stopped that he let go of the bar to cling to his best friend._

 _ **So you can keep me**_

 _ **Inside the pocket**_

 _ **Of your ripped jeans**_

 _ **Holdin' me closer**_

 _ **'Til our eyes meet**_

 _ **You won't ever be alone**_

 _ **Wait for me to come home**_

Steve's second trial had been like a punch to the gut. It reared it's devious, satanic head leading up to Junior year. Literally a few days after his sixteenth birthday and the trip to Coney Island, he started to dream about how Bucky held him on the roller coaster. About how right it felt to hold on to him and have Bucky hold him. That really started to scare him. What the hell did it mean?

He was starting to fall for Bucky, whether full on in love or as a crush Steve wasn't exactly sure. He felt like his feelings bounced back and forth across that line constantly, it was completely frustrating. And what made it worse was that whenever Bucky so much as went on a date he would get a little jealous. The worse was when Bucky was dating Natasha Romanov.

Natasha Romanov was possibly Bucky's most serious girlfriend ever, and also his last girlfriend. Steve envied her so much, the red head was bilingual (Russian and English), an athlete (she was a gymnast and martial artist), and was pretty badass. She was healthy and beautiful and even though she wasn't an evil witch Steve hated her so much. He hated how she was with Bucky, how Bucky treated her to dates. Steve wanted to be in her shoes, he wanted Bucky to love him.

Looking back on it now though, Steve wished he hadn't felt so bitter and hateful towards Natasha. He was really ashamed of his jealousy, so ashamed he sometimes still finds it hard to look at her directly in her green eyes.

 ** _Loving can heal_**

 ** _Loving can mend your soul_**

 ** _And it's the only thing that I know (know)_**

 ** _I swear it will get easier_**

 ** _Remember that with every piece of ya_**

 ** _And it's the only thing we take with us when we die_**

Love isn't easy. Feeling the emotion itself, that's probably the easiest thing about it. But admitting you love someone, confessing it is maybe the scariest and hardest thing you could do. Sure it's easy when it's your mom, your dad, or siblings, but when it's someone you really care about it can be the hardest thing to say. Because you don't even know if they feel the same way. Saying 'I love you' to Bucky was scarier than riding the Coney Island Cyclone.

 _Bucky and Steve sat side by side on the top of Bucky's apartment buildings roof. Steve stared down below at the flickering lights, the colors growing brighter and brighter as the sky got darker. The two of them were huddled a bit together, wearing jeans, long sleeve shirts and thick sweaters. Poor Steve had a fuzzy scarf wound around his neck, and one of Bucky's sweatshirts to keep him warm._

 _Bucky stared forlornly at the cars below, deep in thought. It been merely two months since he and Natasha broke up, and even though they did it on mutual terms, he was hurting a bit after seeing her with her new boyfriend. They'd been dating for most of Junior year and seeing her with Clint Barton, it made Bucky feel like whatever they had was expendable._

 _"Cheer up Bucky," Steve tried to comfort, "You're gonna find someone else. Just give it time?"_

 _Bucky stared at the streets, "It feels like she threw out everything we had together, like everything we felt for each other just evaporated out of her body."_

 _"You guys have been broken up for two months not two weeks," Steve tried to comfort, "Besides, you guys broke up because you didn't have that much in common."_

 _It was true, at first the relationship was exciting and fun but then as it got farther in, they realized that they were losing that spark. Natasha had dreams of going into college, maybe explore the world, she had this aspiration to have a disciplined yet adventurous life. But despite how much Bucky wanted to be a part of that life, of wanting to share an adventure with someone, he wanted to focus his energy in protecting the liberties of every American citizen. They didn't want to drag this out and hurt each other any more than they needed to. Bucky wasn't even that upset about it, he and Steve went to a movie and had a guys weekend, the breakup blues long behind him._

 _But then he saw Natasha and Clint kissing after school one day and the breakup blues came flying back like a boomerang._

 _"I guess you're right," Bucky sighed, "Its just, I really want to find the one. I know it's crazy, that I'm only seventeen and have my entire life and future to find them but-but I'm tired of the pain. I'm tired of the heartbreaks."_

 _Steve nods, "Yeah, I know how you feel Bucky."_

 _Steve turned to look at his best friend and noticed him biting his lip. He tilted his head at Bucky, "Bucky, what's wrong?"_

 _"I think I'm Bi," Bucky finally admitted, blurting it out. The secret had been bothering him constantly, always rearing it's head when he was around Steve. He didn't understand where the attraction towards men came from, but now he was noticing things about guys he normally never paid attention to before. Especially with Steve, he noticed a lot more than usual about Steve's appearance and couldn't help but think he looked adorable. What did that mean?_

 _"Why would you think that Bucky?" Steve looked at him confused. Where had this come from?_

 _Bucky gave a sigh, and explained to Steve about how he was suddenly looking at other guys in a new light. He even confessed to all his thoughts and observations concerning Steve. And the entire time, while Bucky looked down at the streets confused and embarrassed, Steve felt as if the world had stopped. He knew exactly what this meant, he knew that Bucky reciprocated his abilities. This excitement bubbled up in him, incapable of being withheld. So much so that the words tumbled out and interrupted Bucky._

 _"I love you."_

 _A silence claimed them both, and they both stared at one another for a long time. Steve stared at him for a long time, tense and worried that he made the biggest mistake of his life. But Bucky stared at him, and for him it felt like everything clicked into the place. Every thought, every opinion, every observation he ever made clicked together like a puzzle. Everything became clear now and he knew exactly what everything meant._

 ** _We keep this love in this photograph_**

 ** _We made these memories for ourselves_**

 ** _Where our eyes are never closing_**

 ** _Our hearts were never broken_**

 ** _Times forever frozen still_**

Bucky had somehow taken the perfect photo, despite not even looking through it on a moving roller coaster. It had Steve on the left side of the picture, Bucky's right, the blonde hair flying in an upward fashion because of their speedy descend. Steve's blue eyes were wide, the look of fear frozen in his expression. Steve was in the midst of wrapping his arms around Bucky, seconds away from tightening his hold on him. They were so close together and Bucky's face had an expression of pure adrenaline on it. He had that big roller coaster loving grin on his face, his dark brown hair flying upwards on end like Steve's. Bucky only had his right arm in the shot, in the midst of pulling Steve closer to him. The sky and clouds behind them were nothing but a blur.

 _ **So you can keep me**_

 _ **Inside the pocket**_

 _ **Of your ripped jeans**_

 _ **Holdin' me closer**_

 _ **'Til our eyes meet**_

 _ **You won't ever be alone**_

 _"I can't believe you're going to be leaving next week," Steve whispered, staring up at Bucky's ceiling. They laid side by side together on his bed, just listening to Steve's iPod._

 _"I know," Bucky sighed, glancing over at Steve and grabbing his hand, "But in a week and a half you're gonna be going to NYU Steve! One of the best schools out there in New York."_

 _Steve shrugged, "It won't be the same without you though Bucky. I'm gonna miss you like crazy."_

 _They stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the dark blue walls around them and the football posters that nearly covered every square inch. They were hardly paying attention to the music in their ears in favor of just taking comfort in each other's presence._

 _Bucky stared over at Steve, suddenly getting off of his bed and going towards a box on his dresser. Steve sat up, watching him confused. Bucky searched through the box for a moment, before finding exactly what he was looking for. He turned, and presented it to Steve._

 _"I want you to have this."_

 _Steve stared at the image, recognizing it even though he's never seen the image before in his entire life. His gazed turned to Bucky, in complete disbelief, "My sixteenth birthday."_

 _"When we rode the Coney Island Cyclone. I want you to have it."_

 _Steve stared at the photo and quietly reached out to take it. He held it between his fingers gingerly, staring at Bucky in shock. This picture reminded him of simpler days, before he knew he loved Bucky, of when he first discovered how he felt for his best friend and currently boyfriend. This photo nearly made Steve cry. He stared at Bucky who merely smiled at him._

 _"Something to remember me by," Bucky says, "I want you to have it ok? So don't even try to give it back alright?"_

 _Steve wrapped his arms tightly around Bucky, holding him close, "I'll never let it go," He whispered as he pulled away, taking the picture and slipping it into his pocket, "I'm gonna carry it everywhere."_

 _This time it was Bucky's turn to hold him close, pulling him closer as their eyes met. Brown eyes studied the dephs of two blue orbs and blue orbs burrowed deeply into the dark brown orb before Steve. For what felt like eternity they merely held each other, staring at each other so they could never forget what the other looked like._

 _ **And if you hurt me**_

 _ **That's OK, baby, only words bleed**_

 _ **Inside these pages you just hold me**_

 _ **And I won't ever let you go**_

 _"Hello?" Bucky yawned, rubbing his eyes as he talked over his phone. It had to be nearly three in the morning, and his phone had suddenly jarred him awake. He hadn't checked the caller ID, wanting to just go back to sleep._

 _"Bucky?" Steve's voice came over the line, and Bucky tensed, hearing the tears in his boyfriends voice._

 _"Steve? Stevie what's wrong?" Bucky asked worried. He was already sitting up in bed, prepared to run out and take care of Steve wherever he is._

 _Steve didn't answer for a few moments, struggling to control himself. The blonde couldn't help but cry the sound itself making Bucky extremely worried and concerned. Steve took a deep breath and struggled to speak, "I-I'm ok. I-I just-I needed to call you. I-I had a nightmare Bucky."_

 _Bucky tensed, pressing his back up against his bed's headboard, listening to his Steve cry and trying to calm him down. It pained him to hear his boyfriend crying, to hear him so distressed._

 _"Stevie, tell me what happened. I promise you, I promise you that whatever happened in your nightmare will never happen."_

 _"You were killed in action," Steve admitted, crying a tiny bit more on the other end of the line. A silence fell over Bucky, interrupted by the slight crying Steve did on the other end. That was not something Bucky could promise at all, because it was incredible likely that he would die while serving his country._

 _"It's ok Bucky," Steve finally broke the silence, "I'll be ok with whatever happens when your there. I love you. Whatever happens, you don't mean to hurt me. I just-I just wanted to hear your voice so I knew it hadn't happened."_

 _Bucky didn't know what to say, the weight of Steve's confession hitting him like a bulldozer._

 _"I love you Stevie."_

 _"I love you too Bucky."_

 _ **Wait for me to come home**_

 _ **Wait for me to come home**_

 ** _Wait for me to come home_**

 ** _Wait for me to come home_**

They had two choices to make. Steve and Bucky had to decide whether to split up or to stay together. Steve had to decide if he wanted to wait for Bucky, if he wanted to be faithful and wait until he could hold him again.

Steve hardly thought that there was much of a choice to make. After everything he and Bucky had been through, they weren't going to end their love story before it had a chance. They weren't going to end it because Bucky was going into the army, possibly lose his life. They weren't going to end their story because of one life decision. Steve would always wait for Bucky and Bucky would always wait for Steve. This was Steve's third trial of love and he was going to conquer it just like he conquered every other trial he faced.

 _ **Oh you can fit me**_

 _ **Inside the necklace you got when you were 16**_

 _ **Next to your heartbeat**_

 _ **Where I should be**_

 _ **Keep it deep within your soul**_

 _Steve ran as fast as he could, his heart thumping erratically in his chest while his lungs struggled to keep up with his body. The air stung his lungs, and Steve briefly considered stopping to catch his breath but didn't. If he stopped he would never get going again and he didn't have any time to lose. In his hand was an old silver, flat locket that Bucky's grandmother gave him before he died._

 _Steve ran as fast as he could, seeing Bucky stand on the sidewalk with his father trying to call a cab. He shouted the others name, practically running right into him and knocking them both onto the ground. Thankfully, Bucky held his ground and managed to keep them both on their feet despite dropping a bag or two._

 _"Steve?" Bucky stared at him surprised that he was here. He was surprised in a good way and hugged the blonde tightly. Steve reciprocated the hug and looked up at him, trying to catch his breath. For a moment, Bucky was afraid he was having an asthma attack._

 _"Bucky-Bucky I-" Steve swallowed the air greedily, "I have something for you."_

 _Steve held out the silver chain, the little pedant locket twirling. Bucky's eyes widened as he stared at it, then turned his gaze back to Steve._

 _When Bucky last saw it, the latch had been broken and the locket part wouldn't open. Staring at it now, Bucky couldn't believe it was the same family artifact that his grandmother gave him. Not only was the latch fixed and the locket opened but it had a shining luster to it that Bucky doubted it had in years. Without further ado, Steve placed it around his boyfriends neck with a small smile._

 _"I borrowed it and got Peggy's dad to fix it for you. I don't want you to go away without me giving you something to remember me by," Steve admitted._

 _Bucky took it and opened the locket, staring at the pictures of them on it. On the left was a picture of the two when they were six years old at the park, eating ice cream. And on the right was a picture of the two now, just a random selfie they took together. Bucky turned his gaze to Steve and kissed him, "I love it!" He whispered, "I love it."_

 _He would never take that locket off, it would forever rest near his heart as a piece of Steve. A piece of Steve that would always be with him despite how far away they were._

 _ **And if you hurt me**_

 _ **Well, that's OK, baby, only words bleed**_

 _ **Inside these pages you just hold me**_

 _ **And I won't ever let you go**_

Steve worried every day that something bad might happen to Bucky. He loved Bucky, he tried to be optimistic, but every time he heard something bad happen in the news he had no choice but to be completely afraid for his boyfriend.

Steve knew that Bucky could be killed or hurt, that something could happen that would destroy them. He knew that he would get hurt, but Steve didn't want to spend years pining over Bucky when he could be in a relationship with Bucky now. Whatever happened, Steve wouldn't regret this. He loved Bucky too much.

Bucky might hurt Steve, he might destroy the blonde, but Steve understood. This was the danger and risk they had to face, and if Bucky died in the midst of his service, he would be a hero. Although, he didn't need to be in the army for Steve to see him as a hero.

Whatever happened, Steve would always love Bucky and try to accept it.

 _ **When I'm away**_

 _ **I will remember how you kissed me**_

 _ **Under the lamppost**_

 _ **Back on 6th street**_

 _ **Hearing you whisper through the phone,**_

 _ **"Wait for me to come home."**_

Every evening, every morning, every moment in between when Bucky was filled with that horrible homesickness, the terrible terror that came from risking your life, the cold hand of life giving him a less than adequate day he would think of their first kiss. Their first real kiss. Whenever he was lonely, whenever he missed Steve and couldn't call him he would think of that evening.

 _Steve couldn't help but look up at the sky, struggling to see the faint blinking glow of the stars above. But the dark clouds rolled across the sky, the air damp and wind whistling slightly in their ears. Steve leaned in to Bucky as they walked, taking in just a tiny bit of his warmth. Walking down sixth street with Bucky's arm wrapped around his shoulders, Steve couldn't image a better evening whatsoever._

 _"You know, one day they're going to remake those movies and it's just going to be sad. Like... Really sad," Bucky sighed, to which Steve nodded._

 _"I hope that happens long after we're gone though," Steve agreed, "I mean, seeing Harry Potter without Daniel Radcliffe or Emma Watson in it just wouldn't feel right."_

 _The theater was having a big Harry Potter film festival where every movie they were showing was a Harry Potter movie. The two of them had just spent around four or five hours watching Deathly Hallows Part One and Two._

 _Bucky nods, "I still can't believe you cried over Fred's death."_

 _"Can you blame me? He was so young and so full of life. He had his entire family and he was just killed, without any warning. Him and Tonks and Remeus, it wasn't fair! They didn't deserve to die. And poor little Teddy, all orphaned and just not right. And Snape..."_

 _"I still feel like Snape was a bit of a villain. I mean, he was a real Death Eater once."_

 _"But now he isn't, the actions he makes now are the important ones."_

 _Bucky sighed but smiled, "You always did believe in redemption."_

 _"Of course I do," Steve says and hugged Bucky tightly to him. They paused under a lamppost, falling into the circle of yellow light, "Remember when we met?"_

 _"I had been a total asshole to you in kindergarten," Bucky remembered all too well. He had been a bully to Steve: kicking sand in his face, ruining his drawings, taking his toys, and pushing him around. Bucky did all of those things when they were five. And then the teacher finally punished him, was about to call his parents too after sitting him in time out. He'd been terrified, what five year old wouldn't be scared of their teacher calling their parents? But Steve stopped the teacher, he said that he believed Bucky was really sorry and it wouldn't happen again. That's how they became friends, Steve gave him another chance to prove he was a good kid._

 _"But you aren't anymore," Steve said, staring deeply into his best friend- boyfriend's\- eyes. _

_The light shined in Steve's blonde hair, making it sparkle like it had flecks of gold in it. It surrounded both boys in a halo of light, time seemed to stop for them both and the universe paused expectantly at their moment._

 _Bucky leaned in, Steve leaned in, they both tilted their heads to their respective right. With eyes fluttering close, their lips met, and sparks electrified them both._

Steve sat quietly on his dorm bed, holding the phone to his ear. Tears stung in the back of his eyes as a silence filled the line between him and Bucky. He missed him so much. Every spare moment he had, when he wasn't in classes or doing homework, he thought about that kiss. They had been talking for an hour or so, and Bucky had to hang up soon. This was his least favorite part of their phone calls because all he wanted was to talk to his soldier. Steve just wanted to talk to him, without Bucky having to hang up and give the phone to someone else.

"I love you," Steve finally says, hand slipping into his pocket where the photo was, "I love you so much."

"I love you too Steve," Bucky answered over the phone, fondly touching the locket, "Just wait for me to come home."

* * *

 **Warning: I've never been to Coney Island, so the information used in the story comes from the website.**

 **I hope I gave you guys Stucky Feels, I would have done more Captain Peggy (what is their ship name anyways?) but Stucky just felt right here. I couldn't resist doing it at all. This is the first time I've ever done the two, the first time I wrote out a relationship that wasn't straight. How'd I do on it?**

 **Ok, so the list of songs I wanna do that I can remember: "Jar of Hearts",** **"Mean" By Taylor Swift, "You Belong with Me" By Taylor Swift, "Fight Song"**

 **Longest Chapter yet. Please review.**


	4. Fight Song

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you**.

* * *

 **Fight Song- By Rachel Platten**

* * *

 _ **Like a small boat**_

 _ **On the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves**_

 _ **Into motion**_

 _ **Like how a single word**_

 _ **Can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match**_

 _ **But I can make an explosion**_

The first agent Coulson ever _"adopted_ " and took under his wings had been Clint. Clint was an arrogant, sarcastic, rule breaker who caused mayhem and chaos wherever he went. But he was a damn good assassin and S.H.I.E.L.D. would have been lost without him. Coulson had been the first real male figure to take a responsible parental role in the archer's life, and at first Clint resisted it. Clint tried had to not get attached to the man, to treat him like any other agent and not care at all what he had to say. But Coulson was persistent, he continued to care about him no matter how rude and annoying Clint became. And eventually, very slowly, Clint opened up to him and started to trust him. It was like a father son relationship, sort of. Clint was still arrogant, a trouble maker, a rule breaker, but he learned to trust Coulson's decisions and opinions. He didn't so much as disrespect Phil Coulson so much as poke fun at him now, in the same caring way that siblings treat themselves. Clint never doubted Coulson when it came to the important stuff, and Coulson learned to never doubt Clint. Despite being a rule breaker, someone who goes against protocols when he sees it fit, sarcastic, arrogant, and a trouble maker.

Natasha was Coulson's _"adopted daughter"_ , the second agent he took in under his wings. Coulson could still remember the day that Clint brought her in when he was just suppose to kill her. He could remember the cold, closed off expression she held as her eyes flitted across everything around her. Coulson remembered that she was stiff as a board and never once resisted Clint when he asked her of something. At least, not as badly as she resisted against any other agent, including Fury. It took a long time for her to open up, and even longer for her to open up to him. From what Clint would tell him in their private meetings concerning her, Ivan Petrovich, the man she considered as an almost-father figure, was a horrible make role model. Natasha never had anyone to rely on, no one to protect her secrets except herself, so the idea of people like Clint and Coulson was extremely foreign to her. She was trained and raised to never trust anyone, so Coulson used all the patience he used with Clint on her. Once she started to trust Clint, it wasn't that hard for her to get comfortable with Coulson. A lot of it came from Clint encouraging her to trust to him and talk to him, and Coulson graciously opened up to her with welcoming arms himself to show her that he was a safe. Natasha turned to him when she couldn't turn to Clint for reassurance and advice, she trusted Coulson to always be upfront with her when he needed to be. Natasha was scary, but Coulson knew that unless he had something to do with Clint's injuries/capture/death or betrayed either of the assassins that he was safe.

They had odd relationships with one another. But it was their relationship as a family. They were Coulson's kids and Coulson was their mentor and, dare say, practically their informal adoptive father. His death hit them really hard and the news that he wasn't dead even harder. Suffice to say they were not completely happy about the news, they were furious that Coulson let them mourn in ignorance. Natasha and Clint were all ready to close off from Coulson and hold this betrayal over his head for years and years.

Skye saved their little family. The day Coulson revealed that he wasn't dead, he brought the entire BUS Team with him. He came, with Skye following him very closely and was introduced to Coulson's other two agents. Clint and Nat took to her immediately, finding so much in common with the hacker besides their horrible childhoods and personal identity crises. They loved pranks, junk food, the simple pleasures of life. They loved teasing Coulson and causing mayhem when it was well needed and deserved. Even the difference of opinion on information, whether it should be protective and selective or free to the public, had no chance in preventing Skye becoming their _"adopted little sister"_.

Coulson was just astounded how one little hacker, how Skye, with only a few words could make two assassins warm up to her so quickly. It took him months to make such an impression on them. The two of them loved her, they were protective big siblings. They not only made it their responsibility to teach Skye what they knew when they could, but to protect her from anything and everything when she was around. The day she was kidnapped, Coulson dreaded telling them. He feared so badly that an arrow and bullet from the two of them together would end his life.

 _ **And all those things I didn't say**_

 _ **Wrecking balls inside my brain**_

 _ **I will scream them loud tonight**_

 _ **Can you hear my voice this time?**_

The air was extremely dry, Skye felt like she was breathing in sand from how desperately she tried to extract oxygen. Whenever she pictured a kidnapping, Skye always pictured a cold, chilly room with damp air and moss covered walls. She wished now that she listened to Clint, that she listened when he said that kidnappings and captures were not all the same. At the time she had merely scoffed him when his back was turned but now she regretted it.

It was so hot, a heat that weighed down on her and sapped all motivation to move from her body. Skye's head rested against the smooth dark red wall, her dirty dark hair falling in straggly tangles around her shoulders and against her back. A light sheen of sweat never disappeared from her skin and Skye wished she had a roll of deodorant. She almost wished that instead of the small, hot room with it's smooth floor and walls that she was in the familiar chilly rooms Natasha and Clint have faced many times over. Then she wouldn't be sweating, she wouldn't be struggling to not rip her clothes off her body. She tried so many times to use her powers, to do anything that would free her, but something was blocking her abilities. Something, but for the love of God she had no idea what it was. Was it something in the air? Her chains?

 _ **This is my fight song**_

 _ **Take back my life song**_

 _ **Prove I'm alright song**_

 _ **My power's turned on**_

 _ **Starting right now I'll be strong**_

 _ **I'll play my fight song**_

 _ **And I don't really care if nobody else believes**_

 _ **'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me**_

For what may have been the seven hundredth time since she'd been thrown in here, she stared out at the chains attached to her two legs and arms. They allowed her very little reach, they barely allowed her to cross halfway to the other side of the room. The sight of the chains and her lacerated wrists and ankles made a bubble rise suddenly into her chest. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she struggled hard to not cry, not because she couldn't afford to lose the needed water, but because tears were for when she gave up. She hadn't given up yet.

Still, there was so much she had not seen. So much she had not done. So much she had not said. The things she never said rolled around constantly in her brain, taunting her and distracting her whenever the guards and interrogators came. She hadn't told Clint and Natasha how much she loved them, how much she loved them and AC, how much she wanted them to just get together and makes little assassin archer babies together.

Ok, she shipped them both together. She saw them when they were incomplete, she knew that they were meant to be together. She'd seen Clint without Natasha and vice versa. She didn't know if it was ever going to happen, she loved them enough to not suddenly die if it didn't happen, but if she was going to die she would like it to happen after she'd made that statement to them and fled for her life. There was so much Skye had to say, so much she planned to say once she went home.

 _ **Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep**_

 _ **Everybody's worried about me**_

 _ **In too deep**_

 _ **Say I'm in too deep (in too deep)**_

Natasha had bags under her eyes constantly, her hair was always kept in a messy ponytail or bun. She always had a tall glass of vodka clenched tightly in her hand or a hot mug of straight black coffee to keep her running until she gave out. Everyone was worried about her, expecting the usually strong and independent spy to suddenly collapse like a frail paper doll.

This wasn't the first time Clint had seen Natasha go so long without decent sleep, that she'd depended on coffee and alcohol to keep her going. But he'd never seen her take it this far, never this long. He saw her facade crumpling, he saw the cracks in her becoming more and more evident, he was scared that the next time her body gave out in a desperate attempt of rest she might not wake up. And Skye didn't deserve to come back and hear about that.

Clint didn't bother knocking when he entered Natasha's room to check on her, she had became so involved in her work that she didn't acknowledge people at her door half the time. And Clint was the only one that dared trespass in her room without being let in and not being mistaken as an enemy come to destroy her, especially with her sleep deprived mind. He found her once against perched at her kitchen table with the computer, a half empty cold mug of coffee gripped tightly in her hand.

"Nat," Clint sighed as he plucked the mug cautiously from her hand. The last time he tried to take her coffee she gave him a scissor kick in the throat and held a gun between his eyes. But this time she didn't even move a muscle, she didn't even make a threat. Clint couldn't help but feel a cold icy pang hit him in the gut.

"Nat you gotta take a break."

The red head merely narrowed her eyes at him and continued to type away on her computer, searching desperately for Skye.

Clint made a move to shut the computer but a smaller feminine hand snatched him by the wrist and twisted the arm painfully. Natasha stood, whipping around to face her trusted friend with a murderous look.

"Please," Clint tried to reason with her, "You're getting yourself in too deep Nat. You gotta rest. Skye wouldn't want this."

"Skye would want us to find her. Skye would want me to find her."

"I know," Clint spoke softly, feeling her grip loosen around her arm and skilled his hand free, "But she wouldn't want you to be killed doing it because you refuse to take care of yourself properly. Nat you need to sleep. Let me take over for a bit so you can sleep ok?"

Clint knew she was going to say no. He knew she was going to tell him to fuck off. But before she could answer, her eyes drooped and she fell forward into his arms. Clint caught her easily, an eery reminiscent of several difficult missions where they nearly lost each other. He hefted her in his arms and carried her to bed, praying to every deity they found Skye soon.

 _ **And it's been two years**_

 _ **I miss my home**_

 _ **But there's a fire burning in my bones**_

 _ **Still believe**_

 _ **Yeah, I still believe**_

There wasn't a term to describe the intense home sick feeling Skye was suffering with. She missed her home, she missed the Bus and the Playground, the smell of coffee in the morning, the way FitzSimmons would complete each other's sentences, training with May every morning and afternoon, driving Coulson around in Lola because he only had right hand. She missed the way Coulson constantly told her to not call him AC/DC, the thump in her heart each time Captain America came onto base because it's Captain America and Coulson always fangirls, the shiver she gets down her spine when she hears Natasha threaten someone or even sees her take out some newbie agent, the frustrating sense of confusion when you place the ScienceBros with FitzSimmons. She missed it all.

But someone was coming for her, she knew that deep down. She knew Coulson was coming. She knew he was coming with the Cavalry, with Hunter and Bobbi, the guns blazing, she dared to believe that he'd come with some Avengers too. Especially Natasha, Skye knew that the spy wouldn't let her down. She knew Natasha and Clint and everyone she cares about back at S.H.I.E.L.D. would come find her.

Being gone for months made Skye really homesick -hell it felt more like years- but she had hope, so much hope that they'd come for her. That they'd come bring her home.

 _ **And all those things I didn't say**_

 _ **Wrecking balls inside my brain**_

 _ **I will scream them loud tonight**_

 _ **Can you hear my voice this time?**_

There was so much Clint and Natasha hadn't told Skye, not just stories but also how much they appreciated her.

Clint never had a little sister. He was the youngest in his family before him and Barney were sent to that orphanage and he was the youngest person in the circus. He was always the little brother and he never thought of Natasha as anything more than his partner and best friend. He never saw the fiery red head as a sister, but Skye was all he could have ever asked out of a little sister. She was smart, sassy, and a fellow prankster, there was always something he could do for her. Whenever he needed someone to talk to and Natasha was off doing god knows what for Fury, Skye was always there to sit in his room with him and listen to him while they ate a carton of ice cream. She took care of him when Natasha couldn't, she really was his _adoptive_ little sister. If he could have only told her how much he loved her, how much he appreciated her, how far he would go to protect her. He had an endless list of stories to tell her, but those could wait until he told Skye just how much he cared about her as a little sister.

Natasha never thought she would make a deep connection with any other female. And why would she? She was the Black Widow, woman envy her for her abilities and her looks, they fear her for her reputation. Natasha was never really good at making friends either, not when the Red Room made it explicitly clear that there could only be one Black Widow. Natasha never got close to anyone because she would likely kill them or watch them die or possibly die at their hands. Skye was certainly new, someone she could truly connect to. Don't get Natasha wrong, she liked Pepper and Jane, but she didn't come across many woman who had a shitty childhood like her and Clint. Having Skye around was good for her, Skye was there to help her when Clint was away on a mission. Skye would always do something to distract Natasha from that aching twist in her gut, that scary ever present thought in her head that Clint was in trouble. Natasha prayed that Skye wasn't dead yet. There was so much she wanted to thank Skye for.

These thoughts tormented them constantly as they searched for Skye. They haunted the assassins in their sleep, creating horrible scenarios where Skye is dead in their nightmares. The assassins always had it on their mind, tucked as far back as possible but still a very present reminder. They swore that when they found Skye, they would make sure she always knew how much they loved her.

And now that they've found Skye, they were going to smother her with love.

 _ **This is my fight song**_

 _ **Take back my life song**_

 _ **Prove I'm alright song**_

 _ **My power's turned on**_

 _ **Starting right now I'll be strong**_

 _ **I'll play my fight song**_

 _ **And I don't really care if nobody else believes**_

 _ **'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me**_

Skye struggled against the giant man that towered over her, using all of her strength in her efforts to push his hand off of her throat. But he was six feet and three inches, with large muscles that Skye believed, in her dehydrated hungry state, to be bigger than her head. His hand merely tightened around her throat, causing Skye to gasp for air.

The man had her pinned to the wall, using his enormous body to hold her in place as he murmured threats to her in a tone reserved only for sweet talking women in bed. The combination of the two, while very odd, sent a round of goosebumps across her pale skin and made Skye very apprehensive and scared.

"Such a beautiful girl," He whispered, "Such a stupid, idiot, arrogant beautiful girl. You're going to die. I will make sure that you die slowly and painfully, that you die with the fact that no one had come for you staring you right in the face. But first, I want to have some fun before we get rid of you."

Skye's heart leapt up into her throat as she felt his other hand reach for her side. She felt his calloused thumb slip beneath her shirt and started to panic, struggling violent against him in an attempt to stop this. This wasn't how she was suppose to die. This wasn't suppose to be her fate. Clint and Natasha were suppose to save her, she was suppose to be reunited with her family. She knew they were coming.

Little did Skye know that they were indeed coming for her. Coulson couldn't help but marvel at the extreme stealth Hawk-Eye and Black Widow used, how they silently killed every single target that dared to cross their path. Outside, Dr. Banner and FitzSimmons were on the BUS and prepared for any medical emergency. They had everything prepped and ready to go once Skye and any other injured agent got on board. Coulson and Cap were guarding the perimeter, ensuring that no threats came out to attack the BUS and that no reinforcements managed to get in. There was a really big argument amongst everyone over who was going to actually get Skye, one that the assassins won in the end. But from his position, Coulson couldn't believe at how they hadn't sounded a single alarm. Although that could have also been Stark and JARVIS trying to buy the duo some time.

Black Widow said nothing as she took out another man, glancing back at Hawk-Eye silently before following him around the corner. They knew they were getting closer, they've been studying the blueprints for hours on end. Hawk-Eye and Widow had planned and prepared for every contingency the two of them could think of. They were not leaving until they had Skye.

"We're getting close," Hawk-Eye voiced what they both knew, quickly running down the straight hallway they'd enter. Their footsteps echoed loudly off the walls, making them more on edge. It felt like everyone could hear them due to the echoing.

That's when they heard the high pitched screaming, the familiar sound making their blood run cold. The blonde and red head briefly turned to look at each other for a long moments, their hearts beating loudly on their ears. One word seemed to telepathically travel between them just from their intense stares. _Skye_.

Simultaneously, they both took off running towards the sound Skye's screaming. So many horrific scenarios projected itself to them with each step. Hawk-Eye quickly skidded to a stop, staring at the door they knew it was coming from. He didn't bother trying to open it, Widow didn't bother trying to pick the lock, Hawk-Eye merely kicked the lock in. Natasha shoved the door open in one head, gun raised at the ready in the other. She heard the very faint sound of Clint getting an arrow ready.

Hot rage flooded through them both, their blood curdling as Clint wasted no time in releasing the arrow. The pointy shaft ripped through the man's back as if it was a needle piercing a pin cushion and for a very brief moment, the man stood stiffly in place. But then his knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground, leaving Skye standing against the wall shellshocked.

Skye's eyes traveled down towards the dead body at her feet, incapable of comprehending what just happened, and when she raised them again Natasha had nearly thrown herself at Skye. Two strong arms wrapped around her abdomen, pulling her closer into the red head's embrace, and the sob that she had been fighting down for months fought it's way back to the surface with little resistance.

"Shhh," Natasha whispered softly, "Shhh _mladshaya sestra._ It's ok now. We've come to bring you home."

Skye reached out to wrap her arms around Natasha but stopped when she heard the clinking the chains. She stared at the two, looking totally lost on what to do about her restraints. Natasha turned to look at Clint, "Watch the door."

Clint nods, taking position at the door so that if anyone stepped inside he would shoot them before they even noticed him. While he stood at the ready, an ever prepared guard, Natasha worked on freeing Skye one chain at a time. All that left Skye to do was stare at the dead body at her feet, the ghost of his hand still on her skin. It made her feel sick and she self consciously tried to fix her appearance, to straighten her shirt and look like she just wasn't about to have been sexually assaulted. Natasha glanced up at Skye when she wasn't looking and all she wanted to do was just hold the younger girl, to reassure her that it was all going to be ok.

Once all four chains clattered to the floor, Natasha held Skye in one more big hug. Natasha felt a stab of empathy for the poor hacker, she was so skinny and malnourished now. She could feel Skye slightly swaying in the embrace and wondered if she needed someone to carry her. But once they let go, Skye walked over to Clint and gave him a big hug. She kissed him on the cheek and stared at them both expectantly, ready to leave.

It pained the assassins the way Skye trailed them like a lost little puppy. They constantly glanced back at her as if in any moment she would collapse or disappear completely. They practically sandwiched her between them so no one could hurt her without going through the two of them.

Clint dared to smile as they made their way to the rendezvous point, knowing that Cap and Coulson would be there waiting for them as they defended the exit. Natasha trailed behind Clint and Skye, taking up the rear to ensure that no one was following them. Clint wrapped an arm around Skye's shoulders, glancing left and right before leading her straight towards the fellow avenger and his fanboy. Natasha trailed behind them, constantly glancing around left and right.

Unbeknownst to Natasha, one of the agents that Cap had dispatched earlier had regained consciousness and had been waiting for the perfect moment to make himself known. Skye had turned around to tell Natasha to hurry up when she saw him rise, cocking his gun at the small of the Russian's back. Skye screamed her warning just as the gunshot went off, Natasha's green eyes widening as she turned to see the shooter.

 _ **A lot of fight left in me**_

Something seemed to crack from inside Skye. The sight of the bullet attempting to strike Natasha just set the tortured, tired girl off. Every bit of pent up rage and fear sprung out of her palms as she brought her arm straight out. A wave of vibrational energy surged, the attack draining Skye of all her remaining strength. It sent the bullet off it's trajectory completely, sending it flying backwards back into the chest of the shooter. It was so stronger that the building shook very slightly and Natasha had suddenly found herself flat on her back in confusion, mentally checking to see if she had a head injury.

Clint gasped, unsure who's name to call out first as Skye crumpled onto the floor. Her eyes closed and he reached forward, just barely catching her before she hit her head. He turned his gaze to Natasha, watching her get to her feet before staring down at Skye and cradled her to his chest.

"Sleep tight Skye," Clint whispered, "You need it."

Clint waited for Natasha to come stand at his side before they made their way back to the BUS together, never once letting Skye go until they reached the med pod.

 _ **Like a small boat**_

 _ **On the ocean**_

 _ **Sending big waves**_

 _ **Into motion**_

 _ **Like how a single word**_

 _ **Can make a heart open**_

 _ **I might only have one match**_

 _ **But I can make an explosion**_

Skye made a serious impression on someone else besides Natasha and Clint. From the moment he met her, Phil Coulson knew deep down that Skye was going to be worth keeping around. He couldn't help but find her bubbly personality almost contagious, pulling him out of his brooding and bad moods with just a mere smile and a few joking words.

Skye had somehow wormed her way into his life as an ever present, reliable light of hope. Whenever things looked bleak, whenever Coulson thought that things couldn't get worse, Skye reminded him that things could only get better. Her out of the box thinking and faux innocent optimistic outlook drew him in like a light drew in a moth.

She was a Godsend, an angel straight out of heaven that helped him keep his sanity. She saved him from the Clairvoyant, she held strong and steady when they injected her with GH325 and didn't bat an eyelash about it needing to be held in the dark. He reminded her just how reliable people could be and opened him up to a new possibility of thinking. Sure she made mistakes but who was he to judge? She was as much human as Clint and Natasha. If he kicked Clint and Natasha out of S.H.I.E.L.D. after their first mistakes then who knew what would have happened to S.H.I.E.L.D. and it's agents and the Avengers.

He was so happy to have his Skye home again. She was an enormously influential part of his little family and without her, he didn't even want to imagine what it would be like without her. Sure, things had been swell before she came along, but now he couldn't imagine it without her.

 ** _This is my fight song (Hey!)_**

 ** _Take back my life song (Hey!)_**

 ** _Prove I'm alright song (Hey!)_**

 ** _My power's turned on_**

 ** _Starting right now I'll be strong (I'll be strong)_**

 ** _I'll play my fight song_**

 ** _And I don't really care if nobody else believes_**

 ** _'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_**

Natasha and Clint practically tore the door down, both surging forward to go comfort their nightmare ridden little sister. It was Clint who reached her bed first, slowing down the moment he entered her line of sight and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her tiny, shaking form. Natasha skidded to a stop beside him, waiting for Skye to calm down some before she descended upon her.

Skye gripped Clint's shirt tightly, struggling to focus on them and control herself. The tears ran rampant down her face, dropping down onto her fuzzy blanket. Clint slowly slipped into the bed to sit, Skye moving over to make room for him. Natasha climbed in carefully from the other side, running her fingers through Skye's dark brown locks.

"You're ok Skye," Natasha whispered, "It was just a dream. It's all over now I promise."

Ever since they rescued Skye, Coulson immediately stationed his team to stay at Stark Towers for as long as they needed. He had no intentions of taking her away from his two scariest agents, not when they were the best at calming her down from nightmares. This one thankfully wasn't that bad, and they both sent silent thank you's to JARVIS for waking them in time. Had they not awoken when they did, they feared that Skye would have panicked enough to accidentally quake the tower. Would not be the first time it happened.

"It was just a dream," Skye whispered, calming down as she now leaned into Natasha. The girl closed her eyes, letting the Black Widow continue to run her fingers through her hair. Clint never moved from her side, watching Skye with a skilled eye as she went through the process of calming down.

"Yeah," Clint whispered, glancing at the clock. He resisted the desire to groan at the very sight of the ungodly hour. Instead he turned a patient gaze back at Skye, "Try to go back to sleep ok?"

Skye nodded quietly, glancing back and forth between the two silently, "Will you please stay with me tonight?"

The assassins looked at one another, silently communicating with each other. With a yawn, Clint slid beneath the blankets beside Skye as Natasha crawled under.

"Of course Skye," Clint yawned, "Just don't snore."

"I'm not the one that snores Bird Brain," Skye murmured as a retort, smiling as she settled against her pillows. Closing her eyes, sleep claimed her almost immediately.

Natasha and Clint murmured a soft goodnight to her and one another before they settled to sleep beside her. She was the only person they would do this for, but they didn't mind it one bit. If it drove her nightmares away and helped her recover, then they were happy to abandon their rooms for this one. Whenever she thought that she was weak, for just a moment, they would prove to her that she wasn't. She was just getting back in the rhythm of things, and she was going to be ok. Natasha and Clint knew Skye was strong, she would overcome this.

 _ **No I've still got a lot of fight left in me**_

* * *

 **Originally, I was going to take this in a different direction. But then I got this family idea and it was just impossible to ignore. Can you blame me?**

 **It does piss my off that it sort of ends on one last lyric but I think it sums up the story much better than any attempted crap I could try to forge. And then there's that weird large lyric cluster in the middle. That was hard. But then I figured it out and I'm all happy. It involved shortening the cluster of story above it but I made it work :D.**

 **Also, Mladshaya sestra means little sister in Russian. It came from Google translate so I don't know now accurate it is.**

 **List of Songs I want to use: "Jar of Hearts", "Human", "You Belong with Me", "Love Story", "When I see you again", "Mean".**

 **If you have any song suggestions tell me. Honestly, I really want to find a song where I could actually include like Scarlet Witch. I think it's pointless for me to resist the addition to her character so I may as well attempt to portray her character and practice.**

 **Please Review, Follow, Favorite, maybe share on tumblr.**


	5. Love Story

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you**.

* * *

 **Love Story- By Taylor Swift**

* * *

 ** _We were both young when I first saw you._**

 ** _I close my eyes and the flashback starts:_**

 ** _I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air._**

As a child, Thor spent many hours within Odin's Palace either playing with his brother Loki or training to become one of Asgard's most fierce and respected warriors. As he grew older, Thor spent more and more time within the palace, rarely ever traveling into Asgard itself unless for something important. Thor never once trained against anyone else besides Loki, and on rare occasions the All-Father himself. Thor never minded, he hardly believed anyone was worthy to fight alongside Thor, Son of Odin, the mighty Prince of Asgard. That was... until one faithful summer day.

The young Prince of Asgard panted heavily, the air thick with the humidity. It didn't do Thor any good to mope about indoors, staying inside the palace was possibly the worse thing to do. The young Asgardian pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, grimacing in discomfort as it peeled away slightly from his sweaty body. His gold blonde hair seemed to have fallen limp and had now become a great distraction and annoyance to him, constantly falling now and then into his line of vision.

Unable to take the suffocating heat much longer, Thor began to remove his shirt and made his way out towards his bedroom balcony. He quietly reasoned with himself that it must be cooler outside than inside the palace itself, and if that proved to be false than at least it would make the palace seem cooler in comparison. Thor also reasoned that perhaps the humidity would help him as he practiced conquering thunder and lightning. He began to notice that in certain climates, the ability required more effort than in others.

The polished floor of the balcony was almost hot enough to roast a boar on, it's golden surface sizzling from the bright sun. Thor retreated quickly back inside, scanning his room for something to protect his bare feet. Slipping his leather sandals on, he stepped out along the shining balcony and into the burning sun. But much to his discomfort, it proved to be even hotter outside than within his chambers. He turned to retreat back inside, the young Prince deciding to mope inside and thank himself that he was not at all like his brother Loki. Poor Loki had an even worse intolerance to the heat, so badly that it made him fall ill for reasons he didn't know.

 _Slice_

The sound of steel on steel, cutting through the air, caught his attention and he could not restrain himself from approaching the balcony railing. He saw beneath him a small band of three warriors in training: a young scraggly blonde like himself, a slightly taller but thin individual with short hair as dark as Loki's, and a slightly more plumb warrior in training with long hair as well but a deep rich chestnut brown. Thor watched them, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

 _'They are not... horrible,'_ Thor acknowledged silently to himself. He had to admit that they were competent warriors, _'Not as good as myself but still impressive. They will surely be fierce warriors. They shall slay many frost giants.'_

The three warriors in training soon took a seat beneath a large tree, trying to rest in the shade and fend off the heat. Thor watched as they talked and laughed with one another, wondering what it would be like to have companions like that. It was just him and Loki within this expansive palace.

And then he saw her. Her long hair that was as dark and black as the night, hanging around her shoulders freely like the summer heat didn't exist. She had pale skin, white skin that was not as pale as Loki's own skin but far fairer than Thor's, and brown eyes that Thor could not describe (it's only after he first travels to Earth will he realize her brown eyes were similar to coffee). Despite likely being a few centuries old, she looked very young and just on her way into becoming a vivacious woman. Dented training armor covered her chest and abdomen so she couldn't receive any fatal injuries. He noticed the sword gripped in her right hand and could not help but snort in amusement. It was not often that a female Asgardian took up a sword. A small dagger or magic perhaps but certainly not a sword.

An altercation immediately sprung up between the young men, who physically looked no older than the girl or Thor, and the girl. Thor did not hear a single word of the argument, but he saw the three warriors unsheathe their weapons and point them towards her. His stormy blue eyes widened as she disarmed each one of them, knocking them down to the ground.

Forget his doubts, she was far more dangerous than he had anticipated. A dangerous and useful advantage for some warriors. He could not help but smile at her, watch her as she stood tall and proud over the three forms.

 _'She wields that sword well,'_ Thor thought, _'I must train with her.'_

Thor immediately turned, returning quickly inside and searched for Odin. Thor animately told his father of the young warriors he witnessed and wished to have a go against them. Odin could not deny the excitement in his eldest son's voice and knew deep down that he was only hurting his son. Having him spar with just Loki would only hurt him, would only hold him back.

"I will find them my son," Odin promises, "I will find the warriors in training you speak of for you to train alongside with."

Of course, upon hearing about the young female Thor witnessed holding a sword, Odin would ensure that the fair maiden was stopped before she got in over her head. And if Thor got too curious, he would merely say that he could not find the girl or something else. He would think of something.

 ** _See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns._**

 ** _See you make your way through the crowd_**

 ** _And say, "Hello, "_**

 ** _Little did I know..._**

"LOKI!"

Loki's laughter, high and filled with devious mischief, rose over the loud noise that emanated from the party for a brief moment. It taunted the thunderer before is disappeared, with Loki no where in sight. Thor ran through the crowd, shoving people aside as he searched for the trouble maker.

Thor wore a respectable dark blue dress vest over a shiny silver dress shirt. He wore dark blue trousers to match as well. His outfit would have been perfect, he would have been dressed well for the party had his brother not placed a spell upon his clothing. Along the fabric, a bright good thread nimbly weaved across it, forming animated shapes that did nothing but poke fun at him. It's capabilities seemed endless and at the moment, across his chest, the good thread made the image of Thor electrocuting himself with his own lightning. It was only when his loyal friends pointed it out, had he gone on a search for his troublesome brother.

"LOKI!" Thor bellowed, still hearing Fandral's snickers in his head as he searched for his brother. Turning, he unexpectedly ran into someone and knocked their gold glass from their hands. It clattered to the ground, thankfully not spilling on either of them, but it went totally unnoticed by Thor as he stared at her.

She reached only a few slim inches above his shoulder, her onyx hair slightly longer than it had been years and years ago and tied up high in a pony tail. She wore a slim dress, one that was a very dark reddish brown but complimented her beautifully. It was an extremely simple gown, no ruffles or lace or sparkles, and it made her look beautiful.

Everyday Thor searched for her within the battlegrounds, expecting her to show her face again. But she never showed up, and yet here she was, standing before him at one of his fathers feasts. She stood within the palace, a beautiful young woman who had grown up well since he last seen her. He forgot about Loki, about the spell placed on his clothing, even the party around him and gave a charming smile.

"Hello."

 ** _That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles,_**

 ** _And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"_**

 ** _And I was crying on the staircase_**

 ** _Begging you, "Please don't go"_**

 ** _And I said..._**

A conversation flowed naturally between them, they spoke animatedly on several different things though mostly of fighting. Thor soon forgot all about Loki and the spell he placed on his clothing, preferring to just stand and talk with Sif. At the very moment Thor was telling her about how he heroically slain then Endrop that was terrorizing the rivers of Asgard.

"Fandral and I are struggling to keep our heads above the water while Hogun and Voldtragg attempt to pierce the mighty creature with a spear. But it's a smart Endrop Lady Sif, it's no fool to the ways of a hunt. The creature dives in and out of the water, darting left and right in a most peculiar pattern as it advances on us. Fandral and I are nearly beneath the waves when I see the white of it's eyes, it's cry a horrible shrill in our ears. It lunges and soon pulls Fandral down beneath the waves and with no choice I grab on to its tail and follow it under. Raising my knife over I head I-"

Thor stopped when he sees Sif's expression fall blank. He follows her gaze towards the crowd but struggles to find the thing that has obviously upset her. He stares back at her confused only to see her making her way towards the large heavy doors. He chases after her, moving to cut her off before she makes her exit.

"Where are you going?"

"I must leave," Sif whispered, "My apologies Son of Odin but I must depart. I am... Not welcome here."

"Nonsense. Who dares discriminate against you?"

Sif needn't say a word, her eyes filled with a guilty look. She stared at Thor, giving an almost hopeless sigh before she whispered, "I enjoyed speaking with you, perhaps we may speak again. You can tell me what has happened between you and that horrible Endrop."

"Nonsense, you shall not leave."

Sif went to speak, but a loud and authoritative voice cut her off. She bowed her head in guilt and respect, glancing up at Thor for a quiet moment. Thor turned and saw his father approach them, the All-Father's one eye glare leveling the onyx hair maiden beside his son.

"You!" He scowled, "Who dared let you within my palace walls? I will not let a disgraceful, dishonorable wrench foul up my home. Get out! Get out now before I send the guards!"

Sif turned and made her way quickly out of the banquet hall with more grace than most of the handmaidens who worked within the palace. Thor turned his gaze to his father in shock and near outrage. What was Odin's problem?

"Father what is the meaning of this?" Thor demands before turning towards the way Sif ran, calling her name.

"No Thor," Odin captured his son's shoulder in a tight grasp, "She has no place amongst us here within our palace. She dishonors her family, our warriors, our culture, and us. She has no right to be here. She will never be your equal and she is a fool to even believe she could fight alongside you or any of our other men."

Thor stared silently at his father, turning the words he said over in his head again and again. They tumbled around in his head like clothes in a washing machine, he struggled to find any reasonable logic within his fathers word but found nothing. Odin stared down at his son, staring down at his clothes.

"Go change my son. And then, once done, we shall search for Loki and demand he fix this."

Thor quietly nodded and made his way through the hallway and up the gilded stairs to his sleeping chambers. When he was sure that Odin was not watching him and was instead focusing on their other guests, Thor turned his thoughts back towards Sif. He wished she didn't have to go.

 ** _Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone._**

 ** _I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run._**

 ** _You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess,_**

 ** _It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"._**

"Thor," Sif's voice was soft and filled low with war if and apprehension, "Are you sure that this is wise?"

"Yes."

Thor glanced out towards the clearing, see his three trusty companions awaiting his arrival. He had purposefully asked for them to meet with him just outside of Asgard, amongst the realms natural beauty. He wore a cloak around his shoulders, his mighty hammer tucked beneath it carefully so it was completely hidden. The last thing he needed was people recognizing him and alerting Odin of this little adventure. He glanced back at Sif, giving her a confident grin before making his way to the Warriors Three.

Sif trailed behind him, her hand falling protectively onto the hilt of her sword. As much as she had faith in Thor and liked to believe him, she did not think the Warrior Three would take well to her presence. After all, how many times had she kicked their butts and disarmed them? More than they cared to admit to.

"My friends," Thor bellowed jovially, a smile lighting his face. The three turned towards him and immediately froze upon laying their eyes on Sif. Sif immediately froze, but Thor ignored their outward reactions.

"What's she doing here?" Volstragg demands, the first to speak. Thor scowled at the hostility in his voice, preparing to stand his ground.

"I invited her," Thor answered calmly, "Sif is a capable fighter and she can help each and every one of us improve."

"I'm not fighting with a girl," Fandral answered, some venom in his voice. He glared at Sif before continuing, "Especially one disobeying Odin's law. Why in Asgard should I risk my hide?"

"Have you no honor or dignity?" Thor demands, "Do none of you possess a back bone? What veil covers your eyes and prevents you from seeing an important ally? You are each a fool to act so narrow minded like about Sif. Sif is a lady yes, but she is a lady who has the potential of saving our lives one day. Which of you refuses to fight alongside her? For those of you who step forward are better off leaving and finding new companions. For I will always stand by Lady Sif, the fiercest female in all nine realms."

A silence draped itself heavily over the five, covering them like a blanket. Sif felt a warmth swell in her chest, finding herself drawn to Thor's loyalty. It was admirable. And finally the Warriors Three turned to one another and shared a few expressions until Hogun stepped forward. He moved passed Thor towards the onyx haired beauty and got down on his knees.

"We apologizes for our bastard like behavior Lady Sif, any friend of Thor's is a friend of ours. And we do not disrespect our friends. We would be honored to let you train with us and will be more mindful of our manners."

Sif could not keep the smile off of her face as she heard that. She met Thor's stare and her smile, which was already exceedingly bright, widened so much that her cheeks began to ache.

 ** _So I sneak out to the garden to see you._**

 ** _We keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew_**

 ** _So close your eyes... escape this town for a little while._**

 ** _Oh, oh._**

The crisp night air was much warmer than Thor had anticipated. The dark midnight blue sky cast all of Asgard in it's nightly darkness, the stars and cosmos bright blips of light above them. A breeze gently shoved his blonde hair backwards, the scent of humble flowers a comforting and overpowering scent.

The palace gardens were more of an intricate maze, with vivid green hedges that had once towered high above the Asgardian's head when he was a young child. The hedges still do, no Asgardian was tall enough to peer over the hedges, but they were now merely a head or so taller than Thor. Trees with rough and knotted bark sprung out periodically through the extensive garden, towering even higher than the hedges. Some of their branches hung low with vivid green leafs, shielding whoever passed through the hedges from the hot summer sun.

Thor finally paused in his steps, staring straight ahead at the circle clearing within the maze. It was only about 25 feet in diameter, with a tall Willow like tree at it's center spreading it's limbs up around it. They hung low, the leafs a variety of shades of the color green. Beneath the tree, slightly hidden by the branches, Sif stared at Thor as he entered. Thor wasted little time crossing the shirt cut grass to meet her, being very mindful as he stepped over the firefly plants. He dared not touch them less a swarm of fireflies proceed to follow him for the rest of the evening.

"Sif," He whispered, trying to keep his usual loud voice to a very soft rumble. Sif whispered his name in greeting, pulling his closer to the thick tree trunk she had been resting her back against.

She never took her eyes off of their surroundings, gripping his wrist tightly in her hands. It was one thing to sneak into the garden late at night for no reason whatsoever, an act that could be considered extremely criminal, but it was another to be here with a son of Odin. She knew Odin would not permit this, that if he even knew that this was happening he would have her head. She constantly feared of what could happen to them both if they were discovered doing this. It was not that she wanted to disobey the brave, wise Asgardian king but she wanted to be more than a simple maiden. She wanted to fight for Asgard, to be one of the many warriors who were honored for their heroics and sacrifices and were praised once they died and entered Valhalla. Was it so wrong for her to want to do more and be more than the average Asgardian woman?

"No one has followed me here," Thor promises, "And father sleeps in his long slumber. He will not wake tonight. Or tomorrow. It will be some time until he does and he will not know that we have been here. Believe me."

Sif nodded and slowly lowered herself to her knees to sit. Thor followed her movements, sitting beside her and resting his left knee against her right knee. Around them, beautiful flowers began to emit a low blue glow, their buds opening and casting the two in their light. Thor briefly noted that the glow seemed to catch along Sif's reflection and bring out her skin just a bit. Her gaze fell onto the beautiful, daisy looking flowers scattered in between. The humble flowers.

Thor followed her gaze but did not quite understand why she was staring at it. He silently voiced his question to her.

The corner of her mouths quirked up in a smile, "It's such a simple plant, it's not the most beautiful but it's more than what it looks. It's got qualities that make up for it's appearance and if you overlook it, you miss out on something good."

"That is very true," Thor agreed, "A most wise observation."

Sif gave a small smile before she sighed, "Thor, what are we suppose to do? Your father won't allow us to fight together, he will not let me lift a sword in battle."

"I know," The thunderer signed in resignation, "But do not lose hope Sif. I am confident that we will be able to convince him one way or another to let you fight."

Sif nods, resting her head very hesitantly on Thor's shoulder. She peered upwards through the tree branches, up at the stars and swirling cosmos. Thor followed her gaze as well, smiling as a comet or two passed through the dark sky. Sif smiled and looked at him, whispering, "Make a wish."

Little did they know that two icy blue eyes were secretly watching them from the dark.

 ** _'Cause you were Romeo - I was a scarlet letter,_**

 ** _And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"_**

 ** _But you were everything to me,_**

 ** _I was begging you, "Please don't go"_**

 ** _And I said..._**

"THOR!" Odin's voice boomed loudly as he marched towards his eldest sons room. He didn't knock, knowing immediately that the blonde was hidden behind the door. Loki trailed behind the All-Father, a wide and sly grin lighting up his features. With a mighty push, one too strong for the thick door, the swung open right off their hinges.

The mighty slam that followed the doors collision into the wall, Thor spun on his heels with his mighty hammer in hand. He stared tensely at his father for a moment before realizing that it was no invader and foolishly dropped his guard. Loki could not help but give a devious, mischief gleaming stare at his older brother.

"Father, what is the matter?" Thor ignored his brother, eyes focused on his towering father and the broken doors.

"The matter?" The All-Father's voice was a low rumble, doing very little to hide his outrage towards his son. Thor immediately braced himself for the unknown, not quite knowing what his father was mad at or where this was heading, "You dare ask me what's the matter!? My son who dares defies me and defiles everything about the meaning of warrior ship."

"I know not what you speak about father," Thor spoke cautiously, Odin was not an Asgardian to be taken lightly. Thor knew just how deadly an altercation with the All-Father could be.

"You lie!" Odin shouted, a chuckle bubbling between the words. A falsely amused grin spread onto the older man's face, making him look much younger for a few moments, "You do know what it is I speak, you are very aware you just refuse to admit it! That is amusing my son, but it will not fool me. You cannot avoid this. You shall not get away with this insubordination."

The thunderer's jaw clenched and he turned a narrowed gaze into his brother. Loki met his gaze, staring dauntlessly into the angry glare of his stronger brother. In Loki's eyes a clever comment coiled underneath the surface, burning his tongue with the desire be spoke. But the god of mischief said not a word, letting the All-Father speak in fear that he would end up being scolded as well. Thor's hands coiled tightly into fists and he begrudgingly fought the urge to strangle him.

"You know that that wrench is not welcomed within my palace or on it's grounds Thor, yet you defy my orders and sneak her through. You bring her through these hallways, gallivanting like children. But you aren't children! You are a warrior Thor! And she is nothing but a woman!"

"What does sex have to do with it?" Thor demands, "She is the most capable warrior I and the Warriors Three have ever yet encountered. She has more dignity and class than any Asgardian woman I have ever met. She has more determination and respect than anyone you've ever set me to fight against. Just because she is woman does not make her skills limited and her body vulnerable. She deserves the sword which she wields in her hands."

"She wields a sword? Who armed her with such a weapon?"

"That is not important Father," Thor tried to reason, "She is capable of wielding it. Why must you continue to pursue this?"

"Why?" Odin's eye narrowed as he regarded the young prince, "No Asgardian defies my orders Thor and gets away without punishment. Including yourself."

Thor stared at his father, his mind spinning in all directions. What was it that his father had planned for him? What was it that Odin would decide to be a worthy punishment.

"You will no longer consort with the likes of that disobedient lass Thor."

 ** _Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone._**

 ** _I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run._**

 ** _You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess._**

 ** _It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"._**

Thor could not help but worry for Lady Sif as he watched Asgard slowly disappear from view. Odin had sent Thor to work with the dwarves, to be used as manual labor. It was admittedly not the worse punishment out there, but it was a laborious task that required keen focus and attention to detail. To say it was frustrating was placing it lightly.

If only Thor could return home, he would run off into the woods with Sif for solitude and wait with patience for the Warriors Three to join them before starting their training sessions or adventures. He had no idea what Odin had planned for Sif. Loki had somewhat generously hinted that Odin would send Frigga to assist Sif's mother in conforming her to appropriate standards. Thor was not sure how accurate that was but knew for certain that if Sif even stepped onto palace ground without being summoned she would be killed or tried for trespassing.

"Just wait for me Sif," Thor whispered to himself as he pushed a cart full of scrap metal, "Once I come back home we will figure this out. We'll run away if we must."

Thor would not let his father dictate Sif's life. He will not stand by idly and let his father ruin someone's spirit and take away their freedom because they want to be something unconditional. Thor would not let his father ruin a girl just because she wanted to be a warrior. If only there was something to convince Odin to change his mind.

 ** _Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel._**

 ** _This love is difficult but it's real._**

 ** _Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess._**

 ** _It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"._**

Sif took a sharp intake of breath, her chest feeling constricted beneath the tight fabric. Her brown eyes flashed towards her mother, pleading desperately for this torture to end. How long must she suffer? What had she done to deserve this?

Her mother and Frigga stood, watching Sif with quiet gazes as the seamstress tightened the fabric even more around her chest. The younger girl hissed, struggling to breath. She stared down very carefully at the fabric, it's orange color looked atrocious to her skin tone. It was a course fabric and rubbed irritatingly against her skin, which had grown accustomed to softer fabrics and warrior leathers. The skirt billowed out sleekly to the ground, concealing her feet.

"Head up," The seamstress scolded, jerking Sif's head back upwards again. Sif's mother merely stared at her, shaking her head disapprovingly while Frigga just watched silently.

"I can't breath," Sif whispered, "One meal and all of the seams will just rip."

"Gowns are suppose to be tight," The seamstress responded with a bitter tone, doing everything she could to not add 'stupid girl' at the end of it.

Frigga felt a stab of sympathy for Sif. The Queen remembered the early days of her youth, the discomfort of tight gowns and conforming to the Asgardian standards of everyone young, healthy, and beautiful woman. Even now she had very limited say in the laws of her realm, and while she often agreed and respected Odin's decision, this felt too cruel. She saw how her son and his friends enjoyed this young woman's company, Frigga knew that Sif's talents laid in no conventional woman talent. It laid in fighting.

Sif squirmed minisculely beneath the fabric, trying to go unnoticed by the seamstress and her mother. Sif had her mothers eyes and the straight hair, but that was where their similarities ended. She had the elegant nose of her grandmother, the hair color of her father, and her skinny frame from a distant relative neither parent had recollection of. The two were complete opposites. Sif's unruliness stemmed from her desire to be independent and a man's equal. Her mother was a docile and stern maiden, who did not approve of her daughters behavior and felt it dishonored the family. Sif, in her eyes, seemed to only be a disappointment and embarrassment.

"There," The seamstress began to grin just slightly before sticking a pin into the folds of the fabric, "You're beginning to look less wild and more like a proper lady."

"Ow!" Sif moved away, apprehensive now that a pin struck her in the upper leg. She refused to return to her earlier position, not wanting to be injured again, even if it was very tiny.

"Stand still!" Sif turned her head downward as her mother scolded her this time. Why must no one listen to her? Why must they force her to conform? Why must she do this? What had she done to deserve this? She didn't want to be a maiden, she didn't want to be a lady, a damsel in distress to whatever future husband she is married off to. She didn't want to be married off. Why must they force her to do this? What had she done to deserve this?

If only Thor was here. If only he was there, even in disguise, to send her silent comfort and support. If only he was there, if he was there then Sif would be able to stand this. She would be able to place a facade on and pretend like this was not her own personal torture. She would be able to act like her mother wasn't giving her the worse cold shoulder in her life or that Frigga's observation wasn't bothering her. But he was not on Asgard. He was sent to work for the dwarves as punishment, for how lo no one would tell her. But it felt like years. She wondered silently if he would ever return to her.

 ** _Oh, oh._**

"What is it that I can do, do get a man like you," Lorelei's silky, hypnotic voice echoed silently over Odin, "To give me everything I desire. Tell me All-Father, I seek the answer."

Odin stared at Lorelei, conflict written within his battle weary face. His one good eye never failed to leave the red haired woman's face, never flickering to any other territory of her body in caution of what thoughts it may lead to. Besides Lorelei stood Loki and Thor, two hapless victims of her magic. They had headed her off before she had a chance in entering the throne room, but like all the guards she encountered they became helpless minions to her.

"Provide me with knowledge my dear King, you are all wise and knowing."

Odin softly exhaled, his resolve slowly crumbling. He refused to waver though, he refused to fall under her command like every one of his men and sons. He would not be this girls puppet.

"I do not know how you got in here Lorelei," Odin spoke, "But you were foolish to come here with your motives. You shall not succeed."

"I just want wisdom," Lorelei whispers, "Gift me with knowledge oh eternal wise one. Am I worthy to rule over anyone?"

Her smirk broadened when she sees the resistance disappear from Odin's eye. She sensed her sharp tongue taking affect and making her happiness and well being his one priority, his unconditional loyalty towards her. He opened his mouth to speak.

"You are not worthy of anything," Another voice answered behind her, a female voice.

Lorelei turned, staring at Sif as the dark haired girl stood ready for a fight. The red head silently cursed herself and Sif for her abilities didn't affect females and it was foolish of her to not station a guard.

"What are you doing here?" Lorelei asked, "I thought Odin forbid you from the Palace grounds. What brings Asgard's outcast back where she doesn't belong?"

Sif glared, tightening the grip on her sword, choosing to not answer. How she knew about this was not at all Lorelei's business, Lorelei did not need to know about the one little guard that escaped and panicked, fleeing to the Warriors Three who turned to her. She stared at Loki and Thor, who stared at her with expressions she could not place.

"Listen here Lorelei," Sif's voice was low in warning, "This is no game. If you know what is good for you you will release them now and pray that they do not banish you for eternity in the dungeons."

"Cute that you care so much," Lorelei smiled, "But what have I to listen to you for? You are nothing. Nothing but a miserable wrench. You are no threat to me."

Sif scowled, her grip tightening on her sword before she charged. Lorelei could not help but smile at the predictability, "Thor."

Thor stepped forward, raising his hammer to intercept Sif's blade. The weapons clashed together, the sound of metal slicing against each other cutting through the air. Sif pushed against Thor's hammer, staring him in the eyes. Thor brought his hammer back, taking a few steps backwards before stepping forward again, the hammer swinging back toward Sif. Instinctively, her arms went up to protect herself, her sword falling into a defensive position that did little against the mighty hammer. It connected with her side, the force of the blow sending her flying into the nearest wall.

Sif hit the wall with a heavy thud, spots dancing briefly in her eyes once her head made contact. Around her, a painting and some decorative wall ornaments clattered noisily to the tiled floor. The sword laid on the ground halfway between her and Thor, too far for her to reach without getting back to her feet. Lorelei couldn't help but laugh at the other girls failure, feeling as though she were on the top of the world.

"Pathetic," Lorelei hissed, "No wonder your mother is so disappointed by you. Your a horrible disgrace. You can't do anything right. No wonder Odin forbid you from becoming a warrior, you're nothing but a disgrace to it. A disgrace to Asgard."

The red head sauntered seductively up towards Thor, wrapping her arms around the blondes shoulders. She stared down at Sif, "What ever made you think that Thor would respect you? That he'd see you as an equal? That he'd _love_ you? Pathetic. You're pathetic."

Sif felt her blood run cold, a sense of embarrassment make her eyes burn. Her heart ached as if a knife was plunged into it at Lorelei's words, and that knife was twisted sadistically when Lorelei leaned up to place a kiss on the corner of Thor's mouth. As Thor turned his head to meet her, Sif blindly grabbed a shield as she stood and ran towards the two. Halfway there, she knelt down just enough to snatch the sword up into her hands before ramming herself into the kissing Asgardians. The force of Sif running into them was enough to separate them with Thor stumbling backwards onto his butt and Lorelei falling at Sif's feet.

"Loki!" Lorelei cried out, swinging her feet at Sif's legs and sending the dark haired woman to the ground. As she hit the ground, Loki approached her in the midst of a complicated spell. As he drew called, Sif sprung to her feet and smashed the shield right into Loki's face. Blood began to poor from the younger brothers nose and in his few moments of distraction, Sif used the shield to knock him unconscious. As annoying as Loki was, as devious as he was, she could not kill him.

Turning, Sif set her eyes once again on Lorelei. She swung her sword, trying to keep a very level head as the ginger moved nimbly out of the way. Lorelei moved nimbly along her feet, withdrawing a tiny knife from the folds of her hidden pockets and lunged once she perceived an opening. But Sif had faked her out, bringing the sharp edge of the blade down onto Lorelei and carving a clean, clear cut into her right arm. Red blood coated the other girls skin and soaked the surrounding fabric.

The knife glimmered very faintly before it was just a whiz and suddenly Sif felt a horrible stining along the left side of her cheek. Stumbling back, she placed a hand on her cheek and felt stick wet blood on her fingertips. She didn't hesitate to swing her sword again at Lorelei, just barely missing the girl this time. Lorelei moved a few steps backwards, giving Sif a very pleased smirk that her confused until she felt something very hard hit her in the head and send her sprawling to the floor. Odin stood over Sif, a foot stepping onto her sword wielding wrist and his staff in hand. Sif struggled to not cry out at the pressure he was placing on it, she felt as though the bones were slowly shattering.

"I am very sorry for this," Sif whispered, staring Odin before she brought her leg up and kicked the All-Father in the groin. She could already see it now all over Asgard, everyone talking about how she was forever sentenced in the dungeon because she kicked the King of Asgard in the groin.

The strategy worked though, and Odin immediately backed off of Sif. She only had a few moments, so she ignored the pain by tightening the grip on her sword and sprung to her feet. She lunged once move towards Lorelei, raising her sword above her head and bringing it down. She knocked Lorelei right in the center of her head with the butt of her sword, using every bit of Asgardian strength she had to make it hurt. Lorelei had not been expecting that, and the impact of the sword on her skull was more than enough. The ginger collapsed at Sif's feet, a pained girly groan parting from her lips.

The moment she hit the ground, Lorelei's control dissipated over Thor, Loki, Odin,and any other man she had been controlling. Sif stood ram rod straight though, her shoulders tense as she became aware of her own injures. Very hesitantly, she turned to assess the damage she had caused and saw Odin staring straight back at her with an unreadable expression. Mistaking it as a sign that Odin was still under Lorelei's control, Sif raised her borrowed, blood splattered shield and sword to protect herself with. Her eyes grazed over Thor and Loki, then turned her gaze back towards her king. Upon seeing that neither of the sons of Odin were still under the red head witches control, Sif lowered her weapons and stared down in shame.

But Odin could only stare at Sif with a mixture of thanks, awe, and conflict. There was much he needed to think over.

 ** _I got tired of waiting_**

 ** _Wondering if you were ever coming around._**

 ** _My faith in you was fading_**

 ** _When I met you on the outskirts of town._**

 ** _And I said..._**

Sif felt a horrible ache in her chest as she cleaned her sword yet again. She could not help but flash backwards to three days ago, when she singlehandedly defended herself against Lorelei, Loki, Thor, and Odin. The very thought of that fight made her nothing but a bundle of anxious nerves. Odin had forbidden her from fighting. He had forbidden her from entering the palace grounds. And she disobeyed him, sure for good reasons that may have saved all of Asgard, but defied them nonetheless. She waited with baited breath to hear what her punishment would be. Clearly she must have crossed the final line, that this was the straw that broke the camels back.

And then a fire would constantly burn in her, a flame that grew all the more intense whenever she thought about Lorelei and Thor and that kiss. It made her feel sick and foolish. Sif hated everything about that stupid memory, from the out of breath punch to the gut feeling she received when she first saw it to the burning anger she felt when she merely thought about it. The very idea of it always pulled out a million self doubts from her self conscious. Too many doubts to go into. At the end of it all she was constantly wondering if she deserved to fight alongside Thor, if she deserved him at any capacity. Whether is be lover or friend or mere battle companion.

And then she could no longer take the waiting. She could not take it anymore, anxiety and impatience clouding her mind and stimulating every impulse within her body. Sif was done waiting with baited breath, scared that Odin would sentence her to the dungeons or to death. She could not go on living like this any longer. Sif slowly rose from the wooden chair was sitting in, sheathing her weapon silently before beginning her long, solitary walk towards the palace.

 ** _Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone._**

 ** _I keep waiting for you but you never come._**

 ** _Is this in my head? I don't know what to think._**

 ** _He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said..._**

Thor had just exited the palace, in search of Sif when he saw her coming his way. His smile slowly faded away when he saw the taunt line of worry that dug ravines into her face. She looked up at him and even yards away, an electricity sparked between them. Thor sensed an uncertainty around her, she was trapped within an emotional limbo of nervous anxiety and sickening fear.

"Lady Sif," Thor stared at her worried. He forgot everything just for a moment about the great news his father had given him, "What's the matter?"

Sif approached him slowly, taking slow and even breathing so she would not burst into sobs. She felt like a nervous, anxious mess, "I cannot take it anymore Thor."

"Take what?" He asked her confused. What was she referring to?

"The waiting!" Sif paused for a mere moment, trying to not break down, "I have been waiting for three days, three days to find out what punishment your father has decided for me Thor. I entered Palace Grounds when I was forbidden. I raised a sword and fought you and your father and your brother, that must be a crime. Thor I refuse to sit around any longer like a small child and wait for your father to summon me. What has he decided for me?"

"Sif-" Thor spoke but Sif interrupted him. Perhaps if she hadn't she would have noticed his happy expression and waited to hear what he had to say.

"What has he decided Thor? I can't take this suspense anymore."

 ** _Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone._**

 ** _I love you, and that's all I really know._**

 ** _I talked to your dad - go pick out a white dress_**

 ** _It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"._**

The smile that exploded on Thor's face couldn't be more radiant. His pearly white teeth sparkled as he interrupted her, raising his voice only so it would be heard over hers.

"Odin isn't going to punish you Sif."

Sif stared quietly at Thor, her eyes widening in surprise. Her hand momentarily touched the pummel of her sword, her browns eyes brightening. The fear and anxiety evaporated in that instant, filling with the beautiful light of life and livelihood. Hope filled her, filling her eyes with a light that was brighter than the sun.

"If it weren't for you Sif, Lorelei would be sitting on the throne and Asgard would be in chaos right now. We need more warriors like you. Odin has seen the error in his judgement and nearly paid for it. He will never again make the mistake of doubting you and holding you back. He sent me to fetch you, so he could tell you this himself," Thor's stormy blue eyes locked with brown eyes, "He has already spoke with your mother, he plans to have personal armor made for you. The only question is if you still want to fight for Asgard. Odin understands if you want to push that behind you."

"Thor, I have spent so much of my life going behind the backs of Odin and my family to train. I have snuck onto training grounds and into the Palace garden for you. For you and my aspirations. I fought you and Loki and Odin and that horrific witch Lorelei in the name of Asgard. Do you honestly think I'm going to back out now that I'm going to get my dream?" Sif unconsciously stepped closer to Thor, "Of course I want this. We'll be Thor, Sif, and the Warrior's Three."

 ** _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._**

 ** _'Cause we were both young when I first saw you_**

The summer evening was cool and the air smelt of juniper and fire wood smoke. Sif stood on the balcony, looking down at Asgard, her silver armor reflecting the golden light of the party behind her. In her hand was a flute of Asgardian wine, and resting as a comfortable weight against her leg was her sword. She sipped her drink just slightly, staring down at Asgard, at the homes and businesses, and thinking of all the children who could play within the streets safely because of her.

She heard the familiar sound of Thor's footsteps behind her, felt the welcoming weight of his arm against her hip as he wrapped his arm around her. She leaned slightly back into him, turning to look at him.

"There you are," Thor whispered, "Is the celebration becoming too much for you?"

"No," Sif whispered, "I just wanted a moment to think. To look at all of Asgard and admire in it's beauty and remind myself what I am fighting for."

"You think too modestly of yourself my love," Thor tells her, and noticed that she was still caught in her own thoughts.

Sif turned to look at him, staring into his blue eyes. It had been too long since that first summer day when he saw her down below, beating up the Warriors Three. It had been a long time since she first defeated Lorelei and foiled her plot. But it had only been three years since they made their love official though and bond themselves to one another. Sif could not help but look up into his eyes and see the younger Thor who always believed in her. She stared down very briefly at her drink, her senses reminding her of the revolting sour taste she experienced with just one taste. The wine was fine though, fermented to perfection, and yet it tasted horribly.

"Sif what is the matter my love?" Thor asked concerned, "What troubles you?"

"I'm burdened with child."

* * *

 **Not exactly a perfect Love Story that I'm sure most if you probably expected. But Thor and Sif fit. They fit this song extremely well and I can't imagine that Odin was willing to let his son consort with a female warrior. I don't know much about Norse Mythology but I can't imagine that there were many female warriors. Or maybe there were. I don't know. I also don't know Sif's origin story so that's been sort of made up.**

 **I googled, learned in Norse Mythology she had gold hair and Loki cut it when he felt like being a devious god (Sort of like a Tangled I guess) but she was sort of a fertility, harvest goddess. And wife of Thor. I don't know how accurate that is.**

 **Any made up sounding plant is Asgardian.**

 **Please review.**

 **Also- "Renegades" will be Wanda and Pietro. I promise that. "Hanging Tree" will be Romanogers. "Mean" By Taylor Swift is a Loki and Thor sibling story. "Jar of Hearts".**

 **Longest Chapter yet. I am so sorry for that.**


	6. Hanging Tree

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you**.

* * *

 **Hanging Tree- By Jennifer Lawrence**

 **Warning: AU**

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **They strung up a man**

 **They say who murdered three.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

With an exhausted groan, I dropped the box carelessly onto the floor of my new bedroom, involuntarily kicking up the ancient dust that thinly layered the wood. The heavy thud that followed the box's descend went unheard as the dust viciously invaded my sinuses and traveled to my lungs. At first I cough in an attempt to clear my throat and lung to prevent an asthma attack, but then my lungs start freaking out over the dust and the only sound I recognized was my chest racking coughs. For a few seconds I paw clumsily at my pockets for my inhaler before remembering I left it downstairs in mom's purse and surge for the window. With clumsy fingers I unlock the window panel and shove it outward, sticking my head out like a dog so I can drink in the fresh air.

As my coughs slowly but surely subsided, I stared down across the expansive backyard, the yellow-green dying grass looking so brittle as crisp red and yellow leafs piled stop the grass. Trees, an expansive army of them, stood determinedly before my blue eyes. They stretched out farther than I could see, a reminder that the property melted and stretched into the woods behind them. And skittering beneath the trunks were a few squirrels and birds, going about their day as though my presence didn't affect them whatsoever. And to be very honest, it probably didn't.

The brown, sturdy cardboard boxes caught the corner of my eye as I turned back inside, standing as bitter reminders that I, Steve Rogers, did not belong here. I did not belong in Salem, Massachusetts. I belonged in the familiar streets of Brooklyn with my mother, struggling through senior year with all of my friends. The only reason we had moved here was... well it was really complicated.

This ancient, Victorian styled home was once the childhood home of my paternal grandfather, who left it to mom when he died two years ago. Mom had been meaning to come out here and sell it, but she'd constantly been too busy to do it. And then early in the spring, as junior year crept slowly to an end, my step father returned from deployment with some pretty nasty head trauma. Out of all the big, complex, medical jargon that mom and the doctors explained to Bucky and I, the only thing I understood was that his cerebellum took the most damage. That and some specific areas in his temporal lobes which affect his perception of noise.

I could go on trying to recreate the lengthy explanation they gave me but this is what I know: because of the damage loud noises scare the crap out of him and his coordination and balance is pretty shotty. So mom thought that instead of living in the noisy city, we'd move to quiet Massachusetts, where the air was fresher for me and the atmosphere quieter for my step dad. Perhaps, if Bucky was still around, I wouldn't feel as resentful to this house as I do but he isn't. My stepbrother and best friend, though bless his brave soul, was nineteen and had enrolled into the army to follow his fathers military footsteps. So here I am, a severely asthmatic seventeen years old in a new town in a new state with no friends in a creepy Victorian styled house that honestly reminds me of the Conjuring and the stress of applying for college. What exactly should I be happy about?

Kneeling down in front of the box I dropped, I quickly open it up and start carefully sorting my clothes out on my new bed. There were honestly only four or five boxes in my bedroom, back in Brooklyn we had a very small apartment and I had to share a room with Bucky so I didn't have much space. But now I had an entire room to myself and not enough things to fill the space with. All the clothes would go in the closet and/or dresser, the bedsheets would likely go in the hallway closet or on the bed, there was more than enough space for all of my useless stuff. And before I can even put anything away I need to dust and clean lest I have more asthma attacks or come across a spider later tonight.

* * *

The one good thing about this house, though I can't really appreciate it, is that no matter what time it is in the evening there aren't any taxis driving by beneath your window. There aren't any streetlights or headlights shining light every few minutes into your room and disrupting the soothing darkness as you try to relax into slumber or the rupturing beep of a car alarm or honking car horn that always comes when the silent evening is moments from pulling you into that blissful nirvana known as deep sleeping. This freedom of distractions has finally allowed me to lay in my warm bed, with the exhaustion of sitting in a car all day and cleaning weighing me heavily down and directing me towards my dreams.

The only problem. I couldn't sleep. It was too quiet. It was too dark.

My finely tuned ears were well accustomed to every midnight ruckus I've ever experienced. I missed the loud, reassuring taxis and cars as they drove beneath my window that assured me New York was carrying on like normal. I missed the blinding lights that flickered into my room, lights I used to use as a kid to reassure myself that there was no scary monster in my closet. That it wasn't dark enough for the monster to come sneaking in unseen. I even missed Bucky's snoring, snoring that took me two months when I was nine years old to adjust to. Now it was dark and silent, allowing my brain plenty of space to form coherent, complex thoughts. To form theories and paranoid images of gruesome murders of the past and phantasm waiting for the right moment to end my insignificant life. The thoughts crowed loudly within my head, making it difficult to even relax beneath the warm blankets.

"Stop it Steve, you're just being paranoid. You are fine. There are no ghosts. You have no reason to be scared," I murmured to myself, struggling to not remind myself of how angry those men and women must be for being accused as witches in the Salem Witch Trials.

SNAP!

I laid tensely in bed, my ears straining within the silence to catch the sound again. My breathing came in and out slowly, and for a moment I thought I was beginning to wheeze. But the noticeably absent ache in my chest quickly assured me that I wasn't and then I heard some very faint rustling beneath my window.

With slow movements, I cautiously climb from my bed and creep towards the window with feather light footsteps. I didn't dare open the window and let the chilly autumn air in, and merely stared out the glass with my nose practically squashed against it.

There wasn't much outside that I could see. The silhouettes of the trees were just barely noticeable against the inky black backdrop that was the night sky. As far as I could see there was absolutely nothing-

SNAP!

Then I saw it, a small form veiled completely in the darkness. They looked very small, but I couldn't tell if that was because I was high up and was due to depth perception or because they actually were small. They were dashing across the backyard, short curly hair fluttering just a tiny bit behind them. I blink, wondering who they were and what they were doing running through our yard. Before I could budge from the window and even consider grabbing my parents though, the figure disappeared.

Very hesitantly, once I'm sure that no one is in the backyard, I make my way back to bed. But I can't help stay up, wondering who that was and why they were here.

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **Where dead man called out**

 **For his love to flee.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

It wasn't even fifth period, but I was 100% positive that my shoulders and back were covered almost completely in bruises. That and my self esteem had been lowered by at least 50%. Everyone stared at me as I passed them in the halls, clearly smelling the putrid aroma of newbie off of my skin and clothes. Some of them looked at me with pity and sympathy, others looked at me like I was a juicy steak just ready to be carved into. I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the guys, too skinny and short to blend in amongst them.

I slid into the farthest back seat as possible as I entered history, wanting to go completely unnoticed. It wasn't because I wanted to just avoid everyone, well it was slightly that, but I was an utter need when it came to history. I soaked it up like a sponge, and the last thing I needed was for everyone to call me a nerd on my first day.

For a very brief moment I turned away to reach for a notebook in my backpack and when I straightened, a girl was suddenly standing over me. She couldn't be anymore than five feet and possibly an inch, with curly hair so vivid it was as if she painted it red. Her skin was whiter than mine, like a porcelain dolls, and she had a skinny dancer like built to her. Her green stared coldly at me. She wore a dark black leather jacket, black skinny jeans, and a horizontally striped black and grey shirt. Her hands were in black fingerless gloves.

"You're in my seat."

She spoke so softly I barely heard her, but she held such a serious tone of voice it was like I murdered her dog instead of took her seat.

"Um..." I stammered. I couldn't help but stare at her outfit, my brain going to the immediate assumption that she was in some sort of gang or heavy metal slacker.

"Psst," A dark skinned individual with short dark black hair hissed in a seat diagonally to my right. He stared at me motioning me upwards to a seat in front of him. In his eyes dark brown eyes there was a look or warning and urgency. The girl glares at me for a few more moments before I slowly rise and change seats.

"Good choice newbie," The girl mutters before slipping into her seat.

I slip into my _new_ seat, staring at the boy behind me with a raised eyebrow. He mutters quietly in my ear as the teacher enters.

"I'll explain after class."

* * *

The house was eerily silent when I returned home that afternoon, a shocking juxtaposition compared to the rowdy school bus is just been riding. Because the front door was locked, I knew immediately that I was home alone and went to relocked it again. My backpack fell with a soft thud onto the ground as I dragged my feet towards the kitchen for a light snack.

The only bright side of my day was actually meeting that guy Sam, Sam Wilson. As far as I knew he was pretty ok, one of the kids who played it cool and stayed out of everyone's spotlight. He said he raised his hands enough just to look like a normally participating kid, did enough clubs to not attract any stereotypical or hurtful rumors, had enough friends so he didn't look like a loner or too overly popular, and behind it all kept a steady A/B average in all his classes without looking like a show off or geek. The too overly popular part confused me but he explained how the popular stereotype works and wasn't prepared to deal with that. He didn't want to look like a big man on campus, just a normal guy on campus that doesn't get into any trouble. Suffice is to say, he's not that bad.

Sam immediately explained to me at lunch about that girl. Apparently her name is Natalia Romanoff, and that's about as much as anyone actually knows about her. There are several speculations and rumors about her, from the most ridiculous to the most likely. From 'she's a vampire' to 'she's committed murder and always gotten away with it' to 'she's gonna end up in a psych home one day'. Sam explained them all to me, as well as their level of likelihood and popularity amongst the students. What did I think of her? I thought she was a scary, badass in the bad way loner who wouldn't mind getting detention if I took her seat.

She wasn't someone I wanted to mess with.

I quietly grab myself a juicy red apple, as well as a bottle of water before turning around to retrieve my bag and head upstairs.

* * *

SNAP

I jerk silently on the bed when I hear the subtle snap of twigs outside my bedroom window again. Not even waiting for another moment, I scramble towards the window without any regards for my homework. My phones already in hand, ready to call 9-1-1 on in case of an emergency, incase this is a burglary or home invasion or abduction. I quietly scan the entire length of my backyard, staying very low so if they look in my direction they won't see me.

I only caught a glimpse of a black jacket before they disappeared between the trees. Not a face or a hair color or anything distinctive I could call the police for. Could I even call the police? Maybe for trespassing but didn't you have to give people warnings before something can legally be done? Why are they even trespassing through the backyard anyways?

To say that curiosity was getting the better of me was a lie. I really did not want to know. I didn't want to know at all. But I was scared that this someone was a threat to my family. I didn't know who they were or what they were doing. What if they were doing something dangerous in those woods like building a weapon.

Keeping my phone tightly in hand and stuffing my inhaler in my jacket pocket, I was already descending the stairs before it occurred to me by now dangerous and stupid this was. I should wait for my mom or step dad to come home. Especially my stepdad with his military background, even if his coordination and hearing sensitivity would be a big variable, he'd know the best way to handle this situation. I felt around my pockets for a moment to make sure the house key was safely tucked away before exiting the house from the back door.

I'll admit that for a very brief moment, I was shellshocked by how big and private my backyard was. It wasn't any different than Central Park, smaller of course, but the fact that all of this space was mine and I could do anything back here was actually amazing. It was breath taking. It was a privilege I didn't have in Brooklyn.

I trudged quietly through the leafs, staring in silence at the footsteps impressed within the dirt. They were small, and obviously came from sneakers. Very silently, I followed the footsteps with my eyes as they turned deeper and deeper into the woods then followed them. The autumn afternoon sunlight was soon obscured by the towering canopies of the sky scraping trees, casting me in cold shadows. In the back of my mind a little alarm went off warning me to go back inside and be responsible and call the police. But I was already walking, already trying to step quietly through the woods and not step on a twig. It felt too late to turn back.

After a few minutes of what felt like aimless walking, I finally came face to face with that black jacket. Well... Not actually. The wearer had their back to me, staring up at a towering old Willow tree who's leafs and branches swung just a few inches from their face. It took five seconds for me to recognize the red hair, two more to recognize the dark jeans and jacket, and another to hide quietly behind a large oak. What the hell was Natalia Romanov doing, trespassing through my backyard?

I stood stiffly for a few moments, praying that she didn't see me. It was too quiet though and I just slightly peer my head around the tree to see the red head climbing up into the branches. I watched her quietly for a few moments as she sat up there, reclined like it was a chair, utterly confused by what she was doing.

And then came the weirdest part of this whole excursion. She started to talk out loud to herself. In Russian.

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **Where I told you to run,**

 **So we'd both be free.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

Sam stared at me in disbelief, the two of us sitting in the very back of the cafeteria alone, where no one was bound to hear us. I merely nodded quietly as I told him what I saw yesterday but he shook his head.

"Wait? She seriously crossed your backyard to go to some Willow tree?" He asked to be sure.

"Yeah," I was starting to get slightly annoyed with Sam, he's been asking me to confirm that fact for about five whole minutes and I've already done that like five or ten times by now, "She was speaking Russian to herself in some weird old willow tree. Understand?"

"Yeah," He nodded silently, "It's- It's just that there's this little ghost story we have around Salem, about a Willow tree. And the Willow tree near your house, it didn't have a plaque or sign around did it?"

"No," I frown, feeling my stomach knot up as I ate my turkey sandwich. Where exactly was this going? The next thing Sam was gonna tell me was that the area around my house was haunted.

"Oh," Sam seemed to relaxed, "So it might not be the same story. In the story, the tree's known as the Hanging Tree. For well... I'll let you figure out why."

"Please," I tell him as politely as possible, "Please don't tell me the story. It's bad enough I'm a Yankee in Red Sock country, I don't need to get superstitious and freaked out about the Willow tree near my house."

"Well you don't need to," Sam reassured, "I'm pretty sure it's not the tree."

"Whatever you say," I sigh, dropping the topic.

But I was extremely curious about what a loner like Natalia was doing out in a Willow tree, speaking Russian. It didn't make any sense to me at all. I mean, I know people in Massachusetts were different than New Yorkers but I didn't expect this. What was so interesting about that tree? What was is about her that had her so drawn towards it? Should I go back after school and wait for her in the tree?

* * *

I'm probably really stupid. I'm probably gonna get my ass handed to me by this girl and come home covered in bruises I can't explain and bug bites. But I could not take the curiosity anymore. For the past two weeks, nearly every day I saw her sneaking across the very edge of my backyard and disappearing into the woods. Half of those times I and been tempted to follow her, tempted but not curious enough to actually do it. Until now.

I don't know what tipped my curiosity over the edge. She was one of many little insignificant fishes within our ginormous lake of a school but she peaked my interest. She was not a slacker whatsoever. She dressed like a punk and sat in the back with the other punks and delinquents but she was an oddity amongst the back row slackers. She was a different kind of loner, a strange loner who guys avoided her with caution and girls who spoke of her vaguely like she was a taboo. As if speaking her name would bring of death.

She was like a ghost, a mystery I couldn't stand not understanding anymore.

So here I am, sitting awkwardly in the very crook of the tree with the wind threatening to blow me straight out of the tree. I sat hunched over in the tree, unsure how to properly sit in the tree without falling out or when Natalia would show up.

Very carefully, I extract a pencil, a pencil sharpener, and a notebook from my bag and began to quietly doodle. What I lacked in athletic prowess I made up in art. My mom called it a gift, my stepfather and Bucky look at it with slight envy, and I see it as something disappointing. Art has always been fun for me, it's always been something I used to release stress and make people feel better, but what can I do with it? Animation? Illustrate children's books? Good careers, but not good careers for me. Far from it really.

Very quietly, I began to doodle the Target dog, shading very cautiously. Then a tree, with malevolent features and broad straight limbs that stretched outwards in the midst of capturing an innocent child. Around the tree's roots were skulls and bones, decaying ropes hanging from the twisting bark.

The shuffling sound of leafs being crushed underfoot slowly pulled me from my doodles, but I was so immersed that it did not occur to me that I was going to be have company. The flash of red hair appeared very slightly in my line of sight, yet was incapable of ticking me off. It was only when I met the vibrant green eyes of Natalia Romanoff, and heard her startled yelp did the notebook tumble down from the tree and with her onto the ground.

She had an unexpectedly girly yelp, something I did not expect from someone as tough as nails as her. She had fallen completely from the tree, staring up at me with confusion. Perhaps it was better than anger, but deep down I knew that emotion was sure to follow.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" She snarled at me, slowly lifting herself from the ground and brushing the dirt from her jeans.

"What am I doing up here?" I ask, "What are you doing here? Every day you cross through my backyard and disappear back here for like two or something hours! What do you do out here?"

I saw her about to answer, I saw the angry retort about how it wasn't my business and a few threat shining in her Emerald spheres. But then she picked up my notebooks and my chest tightened. My heart stopped beating in apprehension and fear, my mind preparing itself for whatever insult or cruel laugh she was about to give. But her expression softened and she stared at me very quietly before handing it back up to me.

"You drew that?"

I took it on my hands, my hold unnecessarily tight on it. I nod very quietly, staring at her as she began to climb up the tree. I move to give her some space, the hostility disappearing from the atmosphere. It evaporated like water on a hot day.

"Interesting..." She smiled, "Any specific reason why you chose a malevolent tree monster?" But then that smile disappeared and she gripped the front of my shirt tightly in her small hand, "I'm only going to say this once Rogers, only once. Get the hell out of my tree!"

I tipped sideways and suddenly found myself in a daze on the ground as she leered down above me angrily. I stared blankly, shaking my head before sitting up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her eyes never strayed from me, and suddenly, I don't know how I hadn't seen it before, but I saw it. My face paled as I stared at the low little plaque, the same dark brown as the bark. And on it read three little words: _The Hanging Tree_.

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **Wear a necklace of rope,**

 **Wear a necklace of hope,**

 **Side by side with me.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

I called Sam the moment I ran home. Now, I'd like to say I stood defiantly against the fearful Natalia Romanoff and tell her off, but the moment I saw that plaque I tore out of there as fast as possible. I paced my bedroom floor nervously, trying to take cautious breathes incase fear would send me into an asthma attack.

 _"Hello?"_

"Sam it's me."

 _"What's wrong Steve?"_ He started to sound concerned, _"Are you in trouble?"_

"Sam. Sam that-the Willow tree. It's-it's it! It's the-the hanging tree." My voice shook, and I took in a deep breath. I feel like a little kid about to cry.

 _"What? Are you fucking serious?"_

"Language!" I scold, "And yes, I saw the plaque and everything."

On the other end, Sam began to curse profoundly besides my warning. He never once made a crack at my scolding, only continued to curse. It sounded like he was freaking out or something akin to that. But I hadn't any idea why. I didn't even know why I was creaking out when I thought long and hard on it. What was the big deal about the Hanging Tree anyways? Why did it have Sam so raddled?

"Sam," I broke him out of his cussing, "What's got you so worked up anyways? Actually, why was I even panicking?"

 _"Steve... You don't understand..."_ Sam started, before he sighed, _"Let me start at the beginning_.

 _"There was, back when Massachusetts was a British colony, a man known as Cyrus Jefferson. He was, by all accounts a smooth talking gambler who couldn't be trusted as far as you could see him. He was a man that had the silver tongue of Loki, the ability to lie and persuade people to do and believe anything any other person couldn't do. But he was a man of morals. As clever and manipulative as he was, he always used these skills against men never women._

 _And one day, after a long hard day of gambling, Cyrus managed to swindle everything from a poor old family. He good their livestock, their money, their food, and their home. The entire family was out for revenge. They waited until two weeks later, conspiring with their friends and neighbors, everyone who had been tricked by Jefferson. Then, they led a riot against Cyrus Jefferson to lynch him. Their daughter were told to come forward and accuse Jefferson of raping them, the sons were told to come forward as well and speak of how sick Jefferson was. The sons were told to recount how Jefferson tried to do to them what he did to the girls. The entire town listened in outrage, following the wave of hostility._

 _Cyrus Jefferson tried to clear his name and defend himself, but no one believed him. They all shut their ears down on him, for all the lies and fraud he pulled against them. They dragged him to the woods and mercilessly beat him before the roots of a Willow tree. And then, the man who plotted the entire thing stood before him and began wrapping a noose around his throat. Cyrus, who had been screaming for mercy earlier began to cackle. Just before they hung him he called out to ever single one of them that this was not the last time they'd see him. That he would return and stop living a life full of lies. Starting with the lie that started his death. He would act and become the monster they had believed him to be when he was killed._

 _Not two weeks later, did the children who lied about his advances begin to visit the tree. Old Cyrus's ghost hissed persuasively in their ear, coercing them into making more and more frequent visits to the tree. Until one night, they sneak away from their home late in the evening. And found, swinging naked from the tree by a noose and having been sexually assaulted. Once all of those liars had paid for his death, he began searching for innocent victims to kill for the very pure fun of it. Anyone who caught his eye, he would lure to the tree constantly before they were murdered. Hung up from the branches just like he was."_

"But that's just an old story Sam," I was shocked by how calm and even my voice was. I had half expected it to be shaking worse than an earthquake, "When was the last time they found a body in that tree?"

 _"Four years ago."_

"F-four years ago?" I stuttered.

 _"Clinton Barton, he was thirteen when he died."_

I gulped, not sure what to even think right now. I took a very deep breath and said calmly, "Thanks Sam."

I hung up quietly and turned towards my window. No one was trekking through my backyard.

* * *

I sat very quietly in my bedroom that evening, hoping to Skype with Bucky. God I miss him. He was my best friend. He was my brother. I watched the digital clock, watching the minutes tick away in painful slowness, waiting for Bucky to answer. There was so much I had to tell him. So much I needed to ask him. I hadn't the slightest idea of what to do. I know the ghost story was likely an old wives tale to scare the shit out of colonial brats and not even real, but I was scared. A death in that tree only four years ago and now a girl constantly visiting the tree? What was I suppose to think? That this is all coincidental?

The screen of my computer buzzed to life, and I quickly pressed the accept call button.

 _"Hey Punk, what's up?"_

I smiled as I stared into my stepbrother's digitalized face. It felt so good to see and talk to him again.

"Hey Buck," I stared at him happily, "Nothing much. Just surviving high school. How's training?"

 _"It's going well. Made a lot of friends,"_ Bucky stared at me for a long moment before frowning, _"Steve, is everything ok?_ "

"Yeah," I sigh, "It's just, well-" I explained my little situation with the tree and Natalia. I told him about the story and how I'm worried that the ghost story was real and Natalia was gonna end up dead behind the house.

 _"Whoa Steve, calm down. Remember what I told you when we were kids? Ghosts aren't real!"_

"Then why is she visiting a tree Bucky? Not just any tree but a tree called the Hanging tree for damn sakes!"

 _"Steve calm down! You don't know the entire story. Why don't you just ask her what's going on?"_

"And get my ass handed to me? No thank you!"

Bucky sighed, _"Stop worrying so much Steve... This is gonna work out you little punk."_

"I hope your right Bucky."

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **Where I told you to run,**

 **So we'd both be free.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

SNAP

I jerked awake in my bed when I heard the snap of a twig outside my bedroom window. My heart began to thunder, I know exactly who it was that was crossing my backyard now at the dead of night. The story Sam told me echoed very faintly in my head and the image of Natalia swinging from the branches terrified me. I scrambled from my bed very quietly, grabbing my ratty sneakers and quietly made my way through the house. Several times I was terrified that mom or my stepdad would wake up. But they never did. They never noticed me slipping down the stairs with stealth I didn't know I had or slipping open the back door. They didn't hear me as I ran across the lawn, following Natalia with only the flashlight app on my phone to guide me.

The image of her pale skin in the moonlight, a look of horror as she struggled for air haunted me. The creak of the rope as it swung in the air, the horrible dead glaze in her vision. It terrified me. It made me scared. So scared.

I heard the snap of another twig and surged forward, "Natalia!" I shouted, "Natalia wait!"

I stared at the willow tree, the darkness making it look more and more terrifying. And there she stood, the red head in the midst of turning around to stare at me. She was just in the midst of climbing into the branches. She stared at me oddly.

"What the hell are you doing here Rogers?" She stared at me, eyes narrowing.

"Don't go in that tree," I shouted, "Don't! You're-you're going to die!"

"Die?" She suddenly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her head was down and her red hair hid her face. She sounded angry now, "You idiot! This-There is no such thing as Cyrus Jefferson! You honestly-"

"The story... You keep coming here. And-and I know it sounds like a campfire story and everything but-" I stuttered, really nervous and embarrassed, "What about that kid Clint Barton."

Her entire body tensed. She took a very shaky breath and turned her eyes towards me. They swam with tears and she struggled to wipe them away. It all suddenly pieced itself together in front of me. It made so much sense.

"Oh..."

"He was my best friend," Her voice sounded thick from the unshed tears, "We were each other's rock. We were both bullied. Him for his hearing aides and me for my Russian accent. It-it was just too much for him and he-" She took a shaky breath, "He never showed up to school one day. And-and I got worried. I-I called his folks and they told me- the old man in that house saw his footsteps and found him hanging in the tree."

"Then why do you come here?"

And suddenly the tough Natalia Romanoff disappeared, replaced with a girl who's imagination and open mindedness painted her in the light of a peculiar and gentle creature.

"To talk to him. I know, even if his body is buried elsewhere, his spirit is here. He's playing in the tree, waiting for me to talk to him. Watching out for me. He's always been an idiot jackass like that. Being in the most unconventional of places. He used to call me Natasha. I wanted to be more American. To fit in. And when he died, I just stopped."

"You became this badass loner," I whispered.

She shrugged, the red head rubbing her eyes as tears ran down her face, "The plaque is old. This was once a tree used to hang people a long time ago. And so the history society or town or whatever made this plaque. The myth isn't real though. Not by a long shot."

"I feel like an utter idiot now," I mutter, "Sorry."

"You're the first person to ever care about me like that in a long time Rogers," She stared down at me, her green eyes sparkled.

"Maybe... We could start over," I held my hand out, "I'm Steve Rogers, the New York Yankee."

She laughed, a genuine laugh as she playfully smacked my hand away, "Romanoff, Natalia Romanoff."

* * *

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **They strung up a man**

 **They say who murdered three.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

Snow was slowly starting to cover the ground that afternoon as I sat waiting within the Willow tree for Natalia. Little white clouds of air hovered for a breath moment under my nose and mouth as I breathed, before quickly dispersing out into the frigid air. I sat quietly, waiting for Natalia very quietly. Lately we'd been meeting at the tree a lot to do homework and talk, but sometimes she came in private to talk to Clint in Russian which I didn't mind. Had he not died I believed they would have fallen in love with one another. But he did and I honestly felt like an awkward third wheel. I felt like I was intruding.

"Hey Steve," She spoke softly, staring up at me very quietly before beginning to climb up beside me. She sat next to me, Natalia leaning into me to share her warmth. I stared down at the notebook I'd been doodling in, feeling her head pressing against my shoulder.

It was a picture of her, her in all her glory with the black skinny jeans and the leather jacket, the vacant look on her face from when she daydreams in class. I felt her smile beside me as she took it all in. Her curly hair, the slouched, relaxed position, and the relaxed expression in her face was all on point.

"You're a wonderful artist Steve," She whispered.

"It's nothing but a hobby."

"I know," She whispered, "But can you promise me something?"

"Natalia... Please don't make try to turn this into a profession."

"I won't I won't," She sighed, knowing that she would never win that battle, "Just promise me. Promise me that you'll use your art for good. Like you'll auction it off and give the money to a donation?"

"Of course I would. But why?"

"Because you're brilliant and art like this will go for big money."

I merely closed the notebook before the drawings could get smudged from the flurries. Natalia swung her legs a bit, the two of us sitting in utter silence together. With her so close to me, it felt like we weren't friends for a moment. It felt like we were something closer. Something better. Being with her was probably the best thing about moving to Salem. Her and meeting Sam and a couple other of my new friends.

Her head fell comfortably onto him shoulder, and my arm wrapped securely around her small waist. I watched with a small smile as a small puff of white air hung right beneath us, a collection from both our exhaling.

 **Are you, are you**

 **Coming to the tree?**

 **Where dead man called, out**

 **For his love to flee.**

 **Strange things did happen here**

 **No stranger would it be**

 **If we met at midnight**

 **In the hanging tree.**

* * *

 **I must thank Indepenalto for recommending the song and ship. I've been waiting to do this. First time I did Romanogers. Opinions? I feel I've betrayed ClintTasha but... I'll live. Right?**

 **This is a very different format than previous chapters. But there was so much I wanted to do and I didn't want it to just run on. If it helps, I feel like I can do better.**


	7. Renegades

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Renegades- By X Ambassadors**

* * *

 ** _Run away-ay with me_**

 ** _Lost souls in revelry_**

 ** _Running wild and running free_**

 ** _Two kids, you and me_**

Pietro stood, his scrawny and malnourished ten year old body scaling the mountain of white stone, an adventurous look sparkling in his face. Behind him, Wanda scrambled up the stone with an uncertain look about her. She couldn't help looking around cautiously, as though a dead body would suddenly appear. Or a faulty grenade that's just waiting to go off and obliterate them.

"Come here Wanda," Pietro gestured for her to hurry, standing atop the rubble ruins of another building. He stood confidently atop it, as though he were a king claiming new territory. In the back of his mind he knew how stupid and deadly this could be, he knew it could be dangerous but still he smiled and tried to look at life as a homeless orphan as an adventure. Anything to keep his little sister calm, to keep them together.

Wanda slowly made her way up beside him. The moment she returned to her place at his side, she clung to him instinctually like he would run off again. Wanda didn't put that past him one bit.

But staring out at the streets and other building, Wanda felt a little bit taller. She felt something rise inside her like a loaf of bread. Everything looked slightly smaller up here, somewhat more impressive. And she could see the colorful gleam of trapped treasures beneath the mere surface of the rubble.

Pietro grinned following her gaze and gave a little tug at her arm. The treasures, the first of many prizes they could collect and trade to others for food and warm clothing. He made his way quickly down the slope of stone, a smile finding it's way across his face.

 ** _And I said hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Renegades, renegades_**

Pietro scurried inside quickly, a bundle of cloth and fabric in his arms and shielded by his little body from the heavy downpour outside. He entered the tiny, abandoned husk of a building's basement where he saw several other dirty and malnourished children hiding out. Building such as this were popular spots for the street rats to take cover at night, especially in the worse of weather. There wasn't the best but it was secluded and safe from outside exposure.

He spotted Wanda huddled in the far corner, her scared face looking over the other children. She had not her noticed her brothers return and didn't until he was nearly right in front of her, shoving impolitely through the other kids.

"Pietro!" Wanda pulled him forward, an action which caused him to get on his knees, and hugged him tightly. She didn't care if he was soaking wet, if his hair was plastered flat to his skull and his skin radiated with cold, she needed to hold him. She missed him so much, she was so scared when he was gone that something bad would happen. That he would die if she wasn't with him.

"Hey," Pietro whispered, pulling away from her, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere!"

The older twin popped a squat beside her, setting his bundle of cloth in both of their laps and began to cautiously open it. He watched the other orphans carefully, not wanting any of those filthy rats to steal their food. Food he worked hard to procure for him and his sister.

Wanda, her head resting on his shoulder, stared at the stale bread and the cold pepperoni stick. She turned to her brother, quickly covering the food up once again so no one would sniff it out, and hissed in his ear.

"You stole this food?"

Pietro looked at her, feigning shock at her as he shook his head, "No," He answered, "I found it. And now it's mine."

Wanda sighed, in no mood to argue with him, and curled up beside him. She stared up at the ceiling where she knew, on the ground floor and above that, were other more daring children who were camping out. Who weren't intimidated by a possible bomb dropping down on them and killing them. That's why Wanda insisted on the basement. The basement was safer.

"Come on," Pietro nudged her, having unwrapped the food again, "We gotta eat. Mother and father would want us to."

"Mother and father wouldn't want you stealing food," Wanda muttered before taking her share of bread and began to nibble it, savoring the taste despite it's staleness. Stale or not, it was still good.

 ** _Long live the pioneers_**

 ** _Rebels and mutineers_**

 ** _Go forth and have no fear_**

 ** _Come close and lend an ear_**

Wanda blinked open her bleary eyes, rubbing them cautiously with the back of her hand to hear only Pietro's voice within the basement. Wanda blinked, looking around the basement to see, in the dim darkness, the little children sitting around Pietro.

Pietro stood, a few steps away, with his arms out wide to the seated crowd. His voice was a mindful volume, one that didn't mean to wake up anyone who chose to sleep. Very quietly, Wanda drew her legs to her chest and listened to her brother, unable to ignore the fact that he managed to silence the entire basement.

"And there he was! Eight feet tall with scraggly black hair the color of putrid, disgusting squid ink!" Pietro told, "With a glass eye which hung loosely in it's socket and stared at the oddest of directions! He leaned over the crew, with breath that smelled sourly of putrid fish and lemons, and barked angrily..."

Wanda smiled, it was just Pietro telling everyone a made up story he was coming up with. She scooted a bit closer, mindful to keep an eye on their things while her brother spun out his tale. Everyone was lending an ear, listening with wrapt attention. She glanced over at the rusty iron staircase leading upstairs and saw children leaning against it, trying to hear Pietro's story for themselves.

The young girl turned her attention back to her brother and listened attentively.

 ** _And I said hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Renegades, renegades_**

The tears ran freely down Wanda's cheeks as she huddled closer to Pietro, her tiny fingers clinging to him with a vice like grip. Overhead, the urgent cry of bomb sirens shrieked through the night. Their deafening cry was only drowned out by the nightmarish booms of bomb not that far above her. Maybe eight feet above her head.

Pietro held her tightly, trying to remain as calm as possible. Yet his heart was thundering in his chest, pumping fear in his veins as the treacherous emotion reminded Pietro of that dud resting beside them in the ruins of his home. Of the dead remains of his parents. Of their blood and splintered body parts. Of the screaming. He forced himself to not break down, only so he could hold and comfort Wanda.

With each horrific explosion, Pietro cringed just slightly. Dust fell from the ceiling, dust and sediment which clung to the cement. It rained down on all the children in the basement, making them cough for a few moments. It was so dark down there, Pietro hardly saw them. He couldn't even see Wanda clearly in the darkness. He could only hear them, hear them screaming and crying and shouting at each other. He felt Wanda's shaking body as she struggled to compose herself, felt her tremors, and drew her closer to him.

"We will be ok," Pietro whispered, though it was really half hearted. The explosions were getting progressively louder, a sign they were coming closer to the building and block they were hiding in.

Wanda merely nodded and hugged Pietro tightly, whispering to him, "It-it's sort of like thunder," She whispered shakily. Her words caused Pietro to stare at her in mild bewilderment and she continued softly, "Remember what mom used to say about thunder?"

"She used to say it was the sky having a tantrum," Pietro whispered, "Because it was having a bad day or didn't want the day to end yet."

Wanda nodded and hugged her brother tightly, yelping slightly when an explosion caught her off guard. Pietro drew her closer, if it was possible, and murmured under his breath, "it's like a thunderstorm..."

 ** _So, all hail the underdogs_**

 ** _All hail the new kids_**

 ** _All hail the outlaws_**

 ** _Spielbergs and Kubricks_**

Pietro laid on the dirty ground exhausted, his arms spread eagle around him. Blood tricked from his nose and busted lip, his tiny little body aching in pain. Especially his face and jaw. It hurt so much.

Standing over the ten year old boy was an even taller and stronger fourteen year old young man. With a laugh, he kicked Pietro hard in the ribs and watched as the young blonde boy curl in on himself, fighting the defeated whimper in his throat.

Wanda watched her brother with wide eyes, extremely fearful for him. At his small, malnourished body, at his dirty and bruised abdomen and the blood leveling from his nose. The two males had taken off their shirts to fight, and compared to Pietro, the fourteen year old didn't look as dirty or awful.

"You weak, pathetic wuss," The teen kicked Pietro again, as the boy was getting to his feet. Pietro fell unceremoniously, breathing heavily.

"You thought you could keep taking stuff from us?" The teen continued, reaching into his pocket.

Wanda's heart stopped as she realized what was about to happen. That he was pulling out a switch blade. Wanda did not even glance at Pietro, who was still struggling to get up off the ground and fight back before tearing herself away from the crowd, from the teens holding her back, to jump onto that fourteen year olds back. Her little arms hooked tightly around his neck and her heels dug sharply into his sides. The teen, while not bruised up like Pietro, was still a street rat. Which made him skinny and malnourished and incapable of standing forever with a ten hear old girl on his back practically choking him.

"Get offa me you bitch!" He shouted with a red face spinning and turning to shake her off. Wanda held on tightly though, praying he didn't go for the switch blade. She glanced back at Pietro who stared at her in wild bewilderment. What was she doing?

"No!" Wanda shouted, "No! No one ever hurts my brother! No one!"

The younger twin felt her chest tighten seeing the fourteen year old go for his switchblade but before he could completely pull it out, Pietro came running as fast as he could and swung a little brick into the guys crotch. His red face turned the darkest shade Wanda ever saw and as he fell to the ground, curling into the fetal position, Wanda leapt off of him Ungracefully and hit the cement ground. As he fell Pietro kicked him in the head three times an angry look in his face.

"Don't you ever call my sister a female dog again you ass!" Pietro shouted, the ten year old kicking him one more time in the face before turning away to grab his shirt. The crowd sort of stood in shock, the teens who once held Wanda back inched away. None of them wanted to get a brick to the crotch.

"Pietro," Wanda whispered as they hurried away from the scene, hoping none of those witnesses tried to stop them, "You know we aren't allowed to swear."

"He started it."

 ** _It's our time to make a move_**

 ** _It's our time to make amends_**

 ** _It's our time to break the rules_**

 ** _Let's begin..._**

"Please slow down Pietro!" Wanda whispered as she ran after her brother in the dark streets, glancing back and forth and up and down as if a horrible monster would jump out to snatch her away and kill her. She was constantly glancing up as of bombs would fall upon them but Pietro merely smiled and spun on his heels, carrying an assortment of clothes in his arms ranging from used to new.

Wanda was not proud that they raided a store and stole fresh food as well as the donation bins, but there were so few non perishables in those donation bins and so many people. Pietro had insisted on it, that good food were a necessity and that Robin Hood would be doing the exact same thing.

"Pietro!" Wanda called again, trying to not whine.

"I cannot," Pietro says, "This is as slow as I can go! You run faster!"

Wanda glared at him with a huff, muttering a few choice words about him beneath her breath. She struggled to keep up with him as they rounded a corner, a cold stiff wind blowing right into their faces.

"We are almost there!" Pietro called to her, "Promise!"

Pietro skidded to a stop at the cellar door and threw it open, acting like a gentleman doorman and allowing his sister to go first. Wanda made her way cautiously into the basement, her brother close behind her as he let the cellar door close. Pietro maneuvered around her and led her to the middle of the basement, setting the delicious treasures down so he could see all the envious looks of other street rat children staring at him. Wanda followed suit, standing close to her brother like a shadow.

"HEAR YE HEAR YE!" Pietro shouted, though it wasn't quite necessary as everyone was already giving them their attention, "My sister and I have just raided stores and donation bins to bring you all the greatest gift of all for Christmas!"

"Toys?" A child spoke out.

"No," _You dolt_ , Pietro added in his head, "FRESH FOOD! Everyone come around and come share!"

Wanda closed her eyes, she had been expecting everyone to just lunge and attack one another for the food instead of sharing it. She didn't expect everyone to share like this was on big feast. She expected it to be a giant fight and for people to get hurt or go hungry.

But Wanda was pleasantly surprised.

Everyone came forward, breaking up the food and passing it down to one another, making sure everyone was given a little something. The older kids delegated and made sure the younger kids were given a share first before older kids. Wanda watched as the kids thanked them happily, some kids even adding their own little scores of food to the pile to be divided up.

Pietro wrapped his arm around Wanda and held her close to his side, grinning. Wanda smiled and held him tightly in a hug, "Merry Christmas."

 ** _And I said hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Hey, hey, hey_**

 ** _Living like we're renegades_**

 ** _Renegades, renegades_**

Pietro gave a sleepy yawn as he looked down at Wanda, hugging her closer. The dark haired twin was fast asleep, curled up against her brother like a kitten. In the darkness, with everyone asleep, Pietro felt alone. But at the same time, in his sleepy and hazy mind, he felt very at peace. He had his sister with him and that's all that mattered.

Pietro smiled as he hugged her, closing his eyes to fall back asleep. He adjusted his hold on her and settled back. He fell asleep.

* * *

 **Merry Christmas. I apologize if this is short, as you can guess it's a telling of Wanda and Pietro's life as orphans in Sokovia. If you think they're English is too perfect just think of it this way, they aren't speaking English, they're speaking the native language of Sokovia.**

 **And damn it I feel like Shawn Mendes's song Stitches needs to be about how Jemma chose Will over Fitz! Ugh! THAT CANNOT HAPPEN! FITZSIMMONS FOREVER! Atleast I thought of that once.**

 **Please Review.**


	8. Human

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Human- By Christina Perri**

* * *

 ** _I can hold my breath_**

 ** _I can bite my tongue_**

 ** _I can stay awake for days_**

 ** _If that's what you want_**

 ** _Be your number one_**

Pepper sighed, her heels going click clack click clack against the tiled floors of the tower. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a neat bun, wearing a dark black blazer jacket, matching black pencil skirt, and a dark royal blue blouse. The CEO sighed exasperatedly, having just returned from a conference in Houston and was still dressed professionally. She'd been gone for three days and had been searching for Tony for nearly forty five minutes.

The genius in question was in the lab, his hair limp and greasy. It fell across his forehead, an utter mess. He had grease smeared along his left cheek and across the front of his t-shirt. His skin was slightly pale, and dark black rings gave him a raccoon like mask around his eyes. Scattered around him was nothing be discarded mugs of coffee, as well as cans and liters of soda. What a mess!

The strawberry blonde gave a long overdue sigh of exasperation and worry, still working on his latest project. A project meant for her. Pepper had asked Tony if there was anyway for her to have a small, concealable weapon she could use to protect herself so she wasn't constantly the damsel in distress. Because, honestly, she was getting damn sick of it.

But she hadn't expect him to be working on it for 72 hours straight, she didn't want him sleep deprived. Lord knows what could happen, especially with all these tools and equipment.

"Tony," She spoke his name, watching as he tore his gaze up to look at her and smiled. He was genuinely glad to see she was back but he made her wait for a moment, oh so determined to finish this project for her and not make her wait any longer.

 _ **I can fake a smile**_

 _ **I can force a laugh**_

 _ **I can dance and play the part**_

 _ **If that's what you ask**_

 _ **Give you all I am**_

The classical music played so heavenly on the open air orchestra; the violas and violins singing with grace, the clarinets and flutes played with such prestige, the piccolo tweeting and twittering it's song at just the right moments, the French horns a musical triumphant. It all gave Tony Stark a humongous headache. Where was his ACDC and his rock and roll when he needed it? Hell, he'd settle for oldies like the Beach Boys if it meant having to avoid this.

What he hated more though than this boring, dreadful music was the monkey suit he was wearing. Did he mind dressing up? No, he didn't mind dressing up in a sharp outfit and classy tie, but only for his parties. He liked to dress up for parties he hosted. Stuff he was attending that was for something else, it felt like an uncomfortable hassle.

It was a dark black suit with a crisp white shirt and matching black neck tie. Tony Stark couldn't help but fiddle with the knot of the tie, constantly tightening and straightening it out like the moment he let's it go it moves. It worked as a very minimal distraction from the party and conversations around him. They were just so boring and he was getting so restless.

He promptly snapped his attention back to the conversation when he hears Pepper laughing beside him, likely at a stupid joke. He could tell it was a stupid joke because even without paying attention he recognized Pepper's fake laugh. He joined in with a fake chuckle to prove he was paying attention and was interested in it all. The only reason he was out tonight at this boring party was for Pepper. Pepper insisted that he get out of his lab and do something else besides being Iron Man, to come out and get some publicity and awareness about Stark Industries new projects and help her get deals, investments, or sponsors.

And then from the corner of his eyes he saw an unbelievable flash of white blonde hair, causing him to cock his head just slightly to see what that was. For a moment, for one brief moment, he was hopeful that it was the Black Widow in disguise to come get him for a mission or something. But then he saw that it was not Natasha whatsoever, it was girl who looked rather un extraordinary to him. She was beautiful yes, but she didn't look one bit interesting.

She strutted up to their group, standing next to the man Pepper was talking to, clinging to his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. Tony blinked, eyes flickering between them as he tried to figure out their relation. Sure, the guy was up there in years with his grey and white hair and mustache but that didn't mean anything. Tony Stark has seen a lot of things.

"Papá, yo quiero dejar," So this was his daughter, at least, as far as Tony knew. But he didn't understand what she was asking whatsoever.

"Sólo un momento darling," Tony watched as, while these words tumbled from the older man's mouth, Pepper deflated a bit. This was something Tony didn't miss, as Pepper had been subtly trying to convince the man, who judging from his daughters very sparkly earrings was very fortunate when it came to money, to make an investment with Stark Industries. Had the man's daughter not interrupted, Pepper would have likely succeeded.

"Actually," Tony spoke up before the man could bid a farewell, "Might I offer your daughter one last dance before you go?"

He flashed a charming smile, a fake smile that he had perfected from years of attending such pointless classy events so that he could do whatever he could to benefit Stark Industries. And, like most of his past victims, the two fell for it. The father translated it to his daughter, who held her hand out in acceptance to Tony's offer.

Pepper flashed her boyfriend a gracious smile, watching as he graciously twirled the girl away and onto the dance floor. Not a hint of jealousy entered her gaze, for she was in debt to her boyfriend for putting himself out these like this so she could get them an investment.

Yet, internally sighing, Tony counted the minutes as he danced with this nameless girl who didn't understand a single word he said. As the violins graced the dancers with their beautiful melody, he couldn't help wonder why this girl wasn't bilingual like her father. He found that thought to be his main distraction as he continued through this dreadful dance.

 _ **I can do it**_

 _ **I can do it**_

 _ **I can do it**_

Tony was a stubborn guy, ever since he was a small child, and he did not like to disappoint the people closest to him. He hated that look, those expressions which told him that he can and should do better. He was determined to do everything and anything he set his mind to. There wasn't a single thing he couldn't do. He escaped from the Ten Rings, he defeated Justin Hammer's roque "suits", he saved New York from an insane god and an army of aliens, he managed to reconstruct his arc reactor and use is as a clean, reusable energy source for the tower!

He could do anything he set his mind to. _Anything_. Tony Stark did not know the meaning of limitations.

But at the same time, a fact he constantly ignored, he was human. And humans can only do so much.

 ** _But I'm only human_**

 ** _And I bleed when I fall down_**

 ** _I'm only human_**

 ** _And I crash and I break down_**

 ** _Your words in my head, knives in my heart_**

 ** _You build me up and then I fall apart_**

 ** _'Cause I'm only human_**

 _His eyes were straining to see in the dimly lit cave, the dull orange gas lights that were strung along the wall did nothing but give the scientist a headache. The smell of dead and rotting flesh made his stomach give a nauseous twist. And just outside, echoing off the walls of the cave so that they'd reach his ears was the sound of gunfire._

 _"STARK?"_

 _His head perked up at the cry, recognizing it as Rhodey, and spun around. He felt himself incapable of breathing for a moment as a cry echoed off the cave walls, a cry that sounded feminine. There was more gunfire and bright flashing lights that blinded him every few minutes and then he saw Rhodey, a bloody mess trapped in the mangled remains of the War Machine Armor. Tony couldn't recognize him but he knew all at once that this was Rhodey, that this couldn't be anyone other than Rhodey. And then came those feminine screams, screams that sounded an awful lot like Pepper._

 _"PEPPER?" Tony spun around, moving to run after her screaming but found his feet locked securely in place with a chain. He couldn't move. He could only listen as the screaming got more hysteric and filled with some heart breaking sobs._

 _He failed them. He failed Rhodey. He was failing Pepper. He couldn't fail Pepper. He loved her._

 _"PEPPER!"_

Her name broke the silence of the bedroom as Tony jack-knifed up in bed. He was breathing heavily, hand over his glowing chest. He breathed in and out, kicking off his sweat soaked sheets and looking around for Pepper. But then he remember she was on a business trip to Scotland and wouldn't be in bed because she was likely still on the plane.

Tony stared at the opposite wall for a few more moments before rolling off of the bed and onto his feet. Without another word, he made his way downwards to his lab because he knew he wasn't going back to sleep.

 ** _I can turn it on_**

 ** _Be a good machine_**

 ** _I can hold the weight of worlds_**

 ** _If that's what you need_**

 ** _Be your everything_**

A sharp shriek began to resonate in Tony's ears as the metal plates of his armor grinded together. The man inside the armor groaned and grunted as his thrusters sputtered for a few terrifying seconds. It was taking all of his might to keep the commercial airplane steady in the air but the task itself was difficult itself with a new armor, a damaged armor was only worse.

Down below, in the streets of New York, there was nothing but chaos. The attack had taken the Avengers by total surprise, and the city was suffering on account of it. It had been a group of terrorists, many who Tony could call mentally unhinged, with weapons that had once been locked up in the deepest depths of S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities like the Sling Shot or SandBox. Somehow, through means that Tony did not have the time or opportunity to focus on at that moment, the group had obtained the weapons through the black market and arms dealing. And here they were, causing destruction, fear, and chaos in _his_ city.

One of the weapons, Tony couldn't even begin to fathom at the moment what the hell it was, had been fired upwards in an attempt to shoot either the Iron Man himself or Thor out of the sky and absolutely missed. The bright hot white beam had flown right past the billionaire and took out the right wing of the airplane flying overhead. It had been trying to avoid the fight and take a sensible detour so the passengers wouldn't get hurt but that obviously failed. And without a second thought, he flew up to keep the airplane from crashing, from more people dying and adding to the casualties.

 _ **I can do it**_

 _ **I can do it**_

 _ **I'll get through it**_

Despite the shrieking of his armor, despite JARVIS trying to warn him against this and offer alternate solutions, Tony held the airplane as best he could.

 _"Thor!"_ Tony heard Steve shouting the order, but before he could finish the order Tony interrupted.

"I got it!" He shouted, knowing full well that they could all hear him gritting his teeth. Beads of sweat started to roll down his temples distractedly, narrowly missing his eyes. The screens in front of him started to flicker, casting him in sporadic flashes of darkness and blue-white light.

 _"Sir, I strongly disagree with this course of action and advise that you reconsider-"_

"I've _got_ it JARVIS!" Tony snapped, feeling a sinking feeling as the flashes begin to slowly get farther apart.

 _"But sir-"_

"I GOT IT!" Tony shouted, not realizing his team could hear him screaming at his AI. When he did, he didn't give a crap whatsoever. The armor started to make another headache inducing shriek, one that sounded through the coms as well.

 _"Jesus Stark!"_ The Hawk-Eye started to complain, _"What the hell was that?"_

 _"Stark, Stark what's going on up there?"_

Tony didn't get a chance to answer, the shrieking was becoming so loud he couldn't hear the others and the blue-white light started to turn red. The lights started to dim and a horrible fear knotted in the scientists gut.

"No," He muttered frantically, "No, no, no, no, no, no!"

 _"I'm sorry sir, but the armor is faaaiiiillllinnng-"_ Jarvis's voice started to fade as the armor darkened.

 _ **But I'm only human**_

 _ **And I bleed when I fall down**_

 _ **I'm only human**_

 _ **And I crash and I break down**_

 _ **Your words in my head, knives in my heart**_

 _ **You build me up and then I fall apart**_

 _ **'Cause I'm only human**_

The nose of the plane and it's entire force rammed into Tony's chest, sending Iron Man tumbling over the upper half of the plane and plummeting through the sky behind the rapidly approaching airplane. The Avengers all looked up, seeing the rapidly approaching airplane with black smoke still trailing behind it's broken wing and the tiny little don't that was Tony.

Without any hesitation, Thor shot up towards the sky to catch and slow down the descend of the plane just like Tony had been doing. The gods hands left impressions within the metal as he forced the airplane back with some more ease than his suit wearing companion. And glancing farther ahead, he saw Tony rapidly approaching. The man tumbled like a gymnast in the air, and it did not help that he didn't even hear the man's screaming over the com link.

"Captain!" Thor shouted over the wind with an urgent tone, "Stark is not slowing down!"

"I got him!"

The moment Hawk-Eye said those words, he had his bow and arrow lined up for the shot. He bit down silently on his lower lip and released the arrow, watching as it soared uninterrupted through the air before burying itself into the gold and red plates of Tony's armor. From behind the arrow was a strong yet thin black cord, connected to a sort of climbing like pick to keep the end of it or the person on the end from flying after it. Clint drove it into the cement ceiling as best he could, it and been designed for this sort of use, and prayed silently that the cord itself wouldn't snap. Shield scientists were good but he doubted they anticipated Clint to use it like this. He smirked, watching as Tony fell farther down and stood at the ready to pull the scientist in like a fish.

"Clint," Natasha forewarned, "I think he's coming in too fast."

"I got this Nat," The other assassin reassured. He was standing atop one of the more taller buildings to better help take out the enemy. He grabbed the black rope, and started to dig his heels into the rooftop before pulling Tony up. He hoped the whiplash hadn't killed him but didn't have time to dwell on it. If Tony could survive being flung about in a Helicarrier engine he could survive this.

When the red and gold began to appear, Clint felt his heart thumping harder in his chest. The armor was all dinged up, scratched and losing it's high gloss paint job. It looked just a tad worse than the Battle of New York but that was still a concerning detail. And Tony wasn't responding. There were no cracks or jokes or protests. No Legolas or Katniss. No a single word.

"Damn it Stark!" Clint grabbed an arrow and started to pry the face plate off so he could better see what was wrong with the figure inside. But he had a horrible, _horrible_ feeling in his chest.

 _ **I'm only human**_

 _ **I'm only human**_

 _ **Just a little human**_

He'd taken a serious blow to the chest by that plane. His abdomen was nothing but a patchwork of ugly bruised shades of blue and purple. His breathing was a disturbing and frightening rattle, and his face was so pale.

The doctor was shouting things to one another, everyone trying to stable the billionaire so he didn't die on them. Clint stood stiffly, the only one who could leave the battle because Tony needed an immediate medical evacuation. He could hear the others buzzing in his ear, demanding to know if their annoying yet beloved friend was going to be ok. Clint couldn't answer them because he was no doctor and didn't know. He'd never seen Tony this hurt before. He seemed so vulnerable. So human.

 _ **I can take so much**_

 _ **'Til I've had enough**_

She sat by his side continuously, never once getting up to leave or take business phone calls. Pepper sat there, her phone purposefully lost in her purse as she read the book in her hand for the fourth time. She never left the plastic hospital chair, she never left his side. All her meetings were being pushed back and canceled, because she was not going to miss it when he opened his eyes.

The softest rustling of the sheets immediately grabbed her attention, and she saw a fluttering beneath his eyelids. The book falling into her lap, her hand clasped around his limp one tightly. Her thumb began to massage it, trying to stimulate more awareness out of him.

Tony groaned some more before his eyes opened. They flickered rapidly around the room nervously until they landed on Pepper. His hand tightened around her smaller one and he opened his mouth to say something. But no words came out and he felt extremely foggy and exhausted.

"Shhh," Pepper shushed him, "It's ok Tony, just rest ok?"

Tony mutely nods, staring at her very quietly before he closed his eyes. Never in their entire time together did he seem more vulnerable and human than right now.

 _ **'Cause I'm only human**_

 _ **And I bleed when I fall down**_

 _ **I'm only human**_

 _ **And I crash and I break down**_

 _ **Your words in my head, knives in my heart**_

 _ **You build me up and then I fall apart**_

 _ **'Cause I'm only human**_

"Shhh," A soft voice shushed him, so quiet and close that it tickled his ear. Two arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer, rubbing circles soothingly into his back.

"It's ok Tony," Pepper murmured in his ear, slowly bringing him out of the lingering terror which awoken him in the first place, "You're with me, you're safe."

"I'm with you," He murmured back and closed his eyes, pulling Pepper close to him.

They held each other in their arms, time seeming to stop. They were only two humans who could only take so much, but their burdens were more manageable when they leaned on one another. Tony did not need to do everything, he did not need to do everything on his own. He didn't need to be alone, especially when he had Pepper.

* * *

 **List of Songs I want to do: Mean, Out of the Woods, and You Belong with Me by Taylor Swift, a One Direction song, Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri, Shut Up and Dance with Me by ? (Don't remember), Say Something by ? (I honestly don't know), maybe something to include Wanda and Pietro. I wanna include them, I like them. I just don't know how else in these stories right now. Maybe a Disney song to lighten the mood :D**

 **Yo quiero dejar means I want to leave.**

 **Sólo un momento means just a moment and darling is darling.**

 **So, for any of you who were reading it, I deleted one of my Avenger Stories. I just was not feeling it anymore. I got so many plans for not just this story but other stories as well.**

 **Please review. Please favorite and follow.**


	9. Shut Up and Dance With Me

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Shut Up and Dance With Me- By WALK THE MOON**

* * *

 _ **"Oh don't you dare look back.**_

 _ **Just keep your eyes on me."**_

 _ **I said, "You're holding back, "**_

 _ **She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"**_

 _ **This woman is my destiny**_

 _ **She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo,**_

 _ **Shut up and dance with me."**_

Leaning against the bar counter, Steve couldn't help but sigh in self disappointment as he pondered how he convinced Tony. How did he let Tony convince them to go to some dance club?

The marble top counter he leaned against was white marble speckled with a variety of grays and turquoise light blues. Against the left and right walls, as well as around the corner behind the bar were tables and booths made of American cherry wood. The seats and backs of the chairs were made of plush turquoise blue leather. The carpet of the floor was short and blue, with speckles of turquoise, red, and white. The dance floor was made of the same dark wood as the tables and expanded widely in front of Steve.

Amongst the sea of dancing individuals, Steve could see Natasha and Clint as clear as day with smiles and laughter plastering their faces. He saw Clint spinning her around, dipping her so low it was as if she was going to his the ground, and sweeping her back up. They were laughing and smiling beneath the turquoise lights, a few colorful strobe lights making them glow like rainbows.

A sharp nudge in the side brought Steve's attention towards the billionaire beside him, "Looks like you got some competition over there Cap."

Steve merely shook his head, knowing that Clint had a special someone who wasn't the Black Widow to love. Though Steve was extremely sure that Natasha and Clint were a couple like everyone else on the team, and when Natasha kissed him on the mall escalator Steve was scared of Clint's jealous rage. When the archer first approached the soldier after the incident, Steve misinterpreted the reason entirely and just began to prolifically apologize. Ever since that day though, Clint reassured Steve that he would have no competition whatsoever for Natasha, though the super soldier didn't quite understand where Clint got that idea from.

"Nah, they're just having fun," Steve waved it off, glancing over at Thor and Bruce. He didn't really know what to say, what could he say over the loud music? All of them were more or less those awkward guys who would be here until Tony got them kicked out. Bruce was not going to get himself crammed on the dance floor and Thor didn't know how to dance like a real earthling.

 ** _We were victims of the night,_**

 ** _The chemical, physical, kryptonite_**

 ** _Helpless to the bass and the fading light_**

 ** _Oh, we were bound to get together,_**

 ** _Bound to get together._**

The red head and archer turned, skillfully maneuvering through the crowd. Steve couldn't help but watch the way the Black Widow gracefully held herself. Clint smirked softly to himself as he caught the super soldier watching his best friend.

Everyone on the team knew that the Black Widow was dancing on her tiptoes around Captain America as he, in turn, slowly circled around her from afar. They were smitten by each other, it was a fact that everyone but the lovers themselves were aware of. And everyone was utterly sick of them tiptoeing around each other, the damn archer was confident that with just the right little push he could get them together.

Of course, Steve was more or less expecting Clint and Tony to try and pull some stunt to get him and Natasha together. They were utter victims of the night, vulnerable victims to whatever plot their friends were putting into motion. The alcohol and the dancing were perfect means of merely getting one of them to confess in some way. Either by getting Natasha a perfect level of drunkness where she wasn't as secretive and maybe slightly tipsy or by getting the two of them trapped together during a slow song.

But, in a funny way, the club in itself was the perfect excuse to get them started because Steve had failed to learn how to dance. And Natasha was one of the greatest dancers on the team, and it would only be idiotic if they didn't try to get Natasha to teach him while on the dance floor.

And Clint planned to take complete advantage of this beautiful opportunity.

Steve watched as they came closer, seeing him lean closer to the red head until his mouth was just hovering over her ear. The archers mouth moved, whispering or saying words that Steve had no hope at all of overhearing.

 _ **She took my arm,**_

 _ **I don't know how it happened.**_

 _ **We took the floor and she said,**_

Clint snatched the drink right out of Tony's hand, chugging whatever was in it before placing the neon colored cup back into the scientist's hand. His face twisted slightly in disgust as the taste and flavor set in. But before he could quite hear Clint's complaining, Natasha had taken hold of his larger hand and wordlessly pulled him off the bar counter with ease.

Dumbstruck, the captain had no words to say as the smaller but deadlier woman guided him away from their companions and into the dancing mob. His heart was thumping and apprehension become the predominant emotion, because Steve Roger's still didn't know how to dance. Immediately, he yanked his hand free from Natasha's grip which caused her to spin and face him.

"What's wrong?" She raised her voice, making it just audible over the loud music. The lighting turned her white face into a shade of blue, a slightly uncomfortable shade because it reminded him of the Tesseract.

"I can't dance."

"What?" Natasha pointed to her ears as a sign that she had not heard him incase Steve didn't hear her.

"I can't dance!" Steve said louder, cheeks hearing up with embarrassment. He dropped his gaze, unable to look her in the eyes anymore. He prepared himself for some of her jokes, because the Black Widow was brilliant at delivering sly comments as she was at everything else. But there was only the music and suddenly he felt a tightening pressure around his hand again.

"Then I'll teach you," She said as if it was the most normal and obvious thing in the universe. She continued to trek towards the center of the dance floor, but found it difficult because Steve refused to budge.

"Come on Cap!" Natasha shot him a look, "Don't you trust me?"

Of course he did, he trusted her absolutely. So when she tried to pull him along again he followed. He trusted the Black Widow to kill or disarm any hostile that came their way, he trusted the Black Widow to get the job done, he trusted her to hold his back. He'd trusted her many times before.

* * *

 _ **"Oh, don't you dare look back.**_

 _ **Just keep your eyes on me."**_

 _ **I said, "You're holding back, "**_

 _ **She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"**_

 _ **This woman is my destiny**_

 _ **She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo,**_

 _ **Shut up and dance with me."**_

 _"God damn it Natasha!"_

 _Captain America withheld the desire to swear any further as he studied the banquet across the street from his perch. For ten minutes he had been trying to get some form of recognition out of Natasha, some sign that said she could still near him. She hadn't said a word in ten minutes and he couldn't spot her with his high tech binoculars in the building. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a red head like Natasha, and yet she was making Find Waldo a piece of cake._

 _After the horrifically tragic deaths of nearly two hundred people at a wedding, Steve remembered the unnecessary detail that the groom and many guests were in the American Armed Force, Hill had sent him and Natasha to put a stop on another similar attack. Steve couldn't even comprehend the severity and fear these attacks caused, this was just wrong._

 _But as important and high stakes as the mission was, Steve was getting increasingly worried about Natasha's lack of response. What if she had been made? Or distracted? Or Hydra knew they were here and was waiting for Steve to make an idiotic move like barge straight into the banquet._

 _"Natasha!" Steve tried in one more fruitless effort. But this time he was rewarded._

 _"Will you shut up for five minutes? I'm working down here Steve," Natasha vehemently hissed, "Keep you red white and blue tights on."_

 _That merely made the patriotic hero annoyed, but he kept his mouth shut so his anger didn't get the better of him. Sometimes working with the Black Widow was frustrating and other times it was exciting. But it was never easy._

 _"Where are you? I don't have visual on you," He spoke after mentally counting to ten._

 _"Will you calm down and trust me?" Natasha sighed, clearly getting frustrated with the soldier. Did he not understand that she was capable of taking care of herself? She misinterpreted his worry however, "I'm moving to the kitchen alright? Just calm down! Clint's less annoying than this."_

 _The frustration and anger peeked again at the mention of the archer and Steve had to resist the urge of tearing the ear piece out right then and there. Of course she brings up Clint, her best friend and loyal partner who knew every little thing about the Black Widow. The archer who knew what was going on in her head before she needed to tell him. Clint was back at the tower, this was their mission. She had to get use to working with him, with telling him things and answering him when he wanted and needed to check on her. Especially when he lost visual of her!_

 _Then he heard faint, barely distinguishable, grunts over her side of the com link, as well as the electrical buzz of her Widow bracelets. He heard the sound of glass shattering and couldn't keep himself silent much longer. What was happening?_

 _"Natasha? Natasha what's happening down there?"_

 _There was more grunts and buzzing and glass shattering before the red head answered, rather cooly really, "Just finishing the last of the Hydra catering staff."_

 _Steve took that as his cue to need down and meet her. When he entered the kitchen, he was extremely surprised to see Natasha perched on one of the counters, eating the lasagna._

 _"I wouldn't touch the champagne or the wine, they're the tainted stuff," She smiled, "So when's Hill suppose to get here?"_

 _Steve blanched, the one job he had and he had forgotten to do it. He definitely should have had more faith in her abilities, then he would have been more focused and remembered his one job on the mission. He winced as she glared at him and began to scold him for the forgetfulness. She never let it go either, she was always holding it over his head._

* * *

 ** _A backless dress and some beat up sneaks,_**

 ** _My discothèque, Juliet teenage dream._**

 ** _I felt it in my chest as she looked at me._**

 ** _I knew we were bound to be together,_**

 ** _Bound to be together_**

Steve turned back around, struggling to get even the slightest glimpse of his friends. He had to see what the other Avengers were doing, he had to see of they were trying to get video of this in their phones or watching with hysterical expressions. His blue eyes tried to scan over the heads,searching first for Thor. Being the tallest, if he found the Asgardian he was sure to see the others. He doubted they could have gone far in those few moments when his back was turned. Except Clint. But Clint was an exception because he was a trained assassin, meant to disappear from sight.

"Hey," A small hand grabbed him beneath his chin and jerked his head around, "Eyes on me soldier."

A tight feeling crept along his chest as Steve sucked in a breath of air. Those green eyes stared intently at him, with a gaze that made his breathing stop all together. It was the same feeling he got when he had been around Peggy, it was a breakers feeling that felt like asthma but wasn't asthma.

Natasha lowered her hand, gaze never leaving his and fell down on top of his hands. She moved closer to him and suddenly the WW2 soldier became very aware of how closely packed he was with everyone. He swore he could feel elbows and shoulders moving right against him, slightly grinding against him. It wasn't purposeful and yet no one was utterly ashamed about it. It was all closely backed, he was feeling claustrophobic. Suffocating. And yet the Black Widow moved closer to him, her hips and body swaying to the beat. Her movements were much slower and steadier than that of everyone else's, but Steve didn't mind. She was doing this for his benefit.

"Sorry," Steve tried to mimic her movement but the woman immediately stepped back.

"Whoa!" Her palms rested against his pectorals, her eyes widened a bit comically, "I know you're dying for some action Rogers but I don't think grinding is how you wanna do this. Especially when you would be doing it wrong."

The blonde's face turned a tomato red and he immediately averted his gaze. The embarrassment made it feel like his face was burning and it didn't help that he saw two young dancers doing exactly what Natasha had warned him off. The woman was in a slinky green strapless dress that showed more of her chest than he was comfortable with and was so short he thought he was going to see her underwear. And right behind her was a man pressing himself tightly towards her following her movements. And the poor soldier immediately turned away and stared at Natasha's ratty old sneakers.

 _'Oh jeez... Oh jeez why did I follow her out here?_ '

"Come on Steve," Natasha placed her hands atop of his again, patience in her voice. It was something he rarely heard from her before except in interrogations, and he couldn't help but stare at her in surprise. She then moved her hands to his hips and slowly guided his movements so he went back and forth. It was much different then her hip swinging motions. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

The moment Steve got the hang of it, Natasha removed her hands from his hip and picked up the speed of her movement. Steve glanced back towards the bar, struggling to find the others. And he saw Thor, the Asgardian waving to him and flashing him a giant thumbs up. Steve couldn't help but smile at the man's use of the gesture and saw Bruce sitting on a stool watching them. But he failed to see Tony and Clint, and some panic actually became present. He could only guess at what they were up to.

"HEY!" Steve spoke loudly over the music, "DID YOU SEE WHERE CLINT AND TONY WENT?"

"WHAT?" Natasha turned her head in the direction of their two friends and her nose scrunched up. Clearly she didn't know either and he took her expression as a sign that she was as suspicious as he was. But then she shrugged and said, "IDIOTS ARE SOMEWHERE. BRUCE WOULDN'T LET THEM DO ANYTHING STUPID."

"ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?"

* * *

 _ **She took my arm,**_

 _ **I don't know how it happened.**_

 _ **We took the floor and she said,**_

 _Tony laid on the ever so comfortable couch in the communal living room of the Tower. The scientist groaned obnoxiously loud as footsteps echoed, their direction becoming closer and closer to the conjoining kitchenette. Tony turned over and buried his face into his pillow. But then he caught a whiff of the thing he was using as his pillow. It smelled faintly of whiskey with a stronger odor of beer and a very faint musty scent that scratched some familiarity in the back of his head. Then he noticed that it was far more firmer than his sofa's pillows and dared to open his eyes and see what he was sleeping on._

 _A horrendously loud yelp came from the billionaire, and he rolled loudly off of the couch and onto the floor as Clint shouted in response. The archer stared at the philanthropist and the philanthropist stared back, both processing the fact that they more or less slept together. Sure, it was in the non-sexual way but that didn't excuse the fact that they were sleeping with each other and likely cuddling. Or whatever they could have done on the couch without one or both of them falling._

 _"The fuck?" An irate feminine voice said lowly as Natasha glared at her archer companion and Tony. She was on a separate, smaller couch, curled up on her side and her red hair riddled with a decent bed head look. If she wasn't dealing with a headache herself and the deadliest woman alive, it would have been a rather endearing position for her._

 _"Language Romanov," Steve called, the scent of coffee diffusing through the air. But his voice stayed at a tolerable volume._

 _"Shut up Steve," The woman grumpily answered, eyes narrowing further at the two who caused her to awaken. Clint gulped, recognizing her 'I will kill you' look and pointed at Tony so she had someone more specific to blame._

 _As Tony began to loudly and over dramatically make a scene about the incident he had awoken in, Natasha shuffled very silently towards the coffee maker. She ignored the cans and bottles she found scattered on the floor and merely reached into the cabinets for a mug. However, before she could ask where it was, Steve held out her favorite mug._

 _The mug was plain white but in thin, black curly text said 'I'm Not Bossy. I Am the Boss'. It was an ordinary, squarish mug. For some reason, she loved this mug way more than she liked the special black mugs Tony had ordered for her with the red hour glass symbol on them with quotes she had said. Sayings like 'Thank you for your cooperation' and 'This is like Budapest all over again'. But the best part a out this mug, Steve had filled it to the very brim with delicious coffee with just a pinch of sugar. Just how she liked it._

 _"Thank you," She whispered, greedily drinking it. It was then that Tony spoke up loudly, disturbing her peace again._

 _"Hey Romanov? You gonna share that?"_

 _"Fuck off Stark."_

 _"Steve? Bring me some?" Tony turned pleadingly to the soldier, sending out his fake puppy dog like expression._

 _"Come get it yourself Tony, I'm running late!"_

 _Tony watched the two as they disappeared out of the room, mouth hanging over just slightly. He watched with a slightly exasperated expression and turned to Clint, to find the archer missing from the couch. Turning his head in a few jerky motions, he found the archer at the kitchenette, pouring himself some coffee from his own mug._

 _"What the hell is the matter with those two?"_

 _"Excuse me?" Clint raised an eyebrow. The mug was just centimeters from his lips and he furrowed his brows impatiently at Tony because, well, coffee!_

 _"Those two are obviously pining away for each other!" Tony went on, and for a moment Clint wasn't sure if this was a serious conversation or a side affect from Tony's hangover. The man's brain did have periods of logical shut down, more frequently after he had been drinking heavily. Like last night, "Why can't they just work up the courage and just do something about it?"_

 _"You aren't the only one impatiently waiting, I've been trying to give Nat subtle hints about it. Except apparent I haven't been subtle enough and now unless she's either tipsy from major blood loss and really drunk then mentioning it has become a death sentence."_

 _"We ought to do something," Tony said, clear and confident, "We need to fix them up with one another."_

 _"How do you suppose we do that?"_

 _"Love potion, that's how."_

* * *

 _"You know there are easier ways to do this right?" Clint leaned against the wall in Tony's lab, watching the scientist as he stood in front of what looked like an extremely complicated chemistry set. It sort of reminded Clint of the equipment a mad scientist in the cartoons had, with all the round and strange shape containers and the different changing colors._

 _"They'd be expecting us to lock them in the closet together. Steve isn't that clueless and Romanov is hung over, not stupid. Besides, that's so cliche. This is way more fun!"_

 _"Giving our friends an untested, possibly lethal concoction is considered fun?"_

 _"Calm down it'll be totally safe!"_

 _"How do you know? Have you done this before?"_

 _"Well, no. But just trust me!"_

 _Clint scowled, silently regretting this decision. If they accidentally hospitalized one of their friends or, worse, killed Natasha and/or Steve then not only will the other be de vastly heartbroken but they'll die if they found out. And Coulson would totally contribute in the killing if Steve was the one hurt or killed. He still couldn't quite understand how Tony was so confident in a love potion. It was fictional, the objects of literature and movies. As magical and unreal as Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings._

 _Tony stood bent over his work, cautiously watching the screens and the chemical compounds. Simulations ran as he worked, his hands quickly but cautiously adding different chemicals. The solution shifted from shades to different colors all together, going from extremely like red to green to yellow to a mixture of two or more colors. He watched as it bubbled, a sign a chemical reaction was indeed taking place._

 _"Sir, the simulations report that the desired effect you wanted is taking place."_

 _Tony smiled brightly as JARVIS told him this. He turned to the simulations, staring at the brain images. The purpose of the "love potion" was to increase activity in the region of the brain that let's off chemical reactions when someone is feeling a strong attraction. The idea was to make that feeling so overwhelming that, when accompanied with a desire to kiss someone, became so unbearable they needed to be expressed._

 _"Now," Tony smiled, pouring the solution out into a vial and corking it, "Who shall we use this on?"_

* * *

 _It had been decided, that while sober, Steve would be a much easier target than Natasha. Natasha was a master at picking up changes in behavior and one look at either Clint or Tony would tell her something was going on. But Steve, Steve wouldn't be able to notice it as well as Natasha. Especially if Clint placed his spy skills to good use and masked his true intentions._

 _It was a two person plan honestly, while Steve was doing his daily work out routine, Tony would have JARVIS ask him to come immediately to the kitchen on the grounds that it was important. Tony would make up some excuse, giving Clint plenty of time to sneak in through the air ducts and taint Steve's water bottle. At first the archer was worried that the substance would be extremely noticeable in the flower, as it was a translucent red, but then Tony told him how Steve cut up strawberries and used them to flavor his water, turning it a reddish color. That made Clint feel reassured that their ploy wouldn't be discovered._

 _Clint had dropped down the minute Steve had exited the room and grabbed the man's water bottle. For a moment he stared at the red water, with chunks of fruit sitting on the bottom and floating just a bit as the water sloshed around a bit. Clint hurried to unscrew the cap and quickly took the stopper off of the vial. He stared at the vial and then the water bottle suddenly unsure of how much he should put in. But he heard footsteps coming, an unexpected and unplanned for event, and he quickly poured the entire vial in and screwed the cap back on. He stuffed the vial into his pockets and ran to secure the vent covering back where it belonged. Then, the footsteps closer now, he ran to the nearest elliptical machine and acted as though he was just beginning his own work out. There was no time to scurry back the way he had came._

 _Natasha entered, in her black tank top and dark grey sweats. She glanced at Clint as she entered, staring at his attire. Her eyes squinted slightly suspicious at him but shrugged and said nothing. Clint exhaled in relief and watched as she went to the punching bag Steve had abandoned. That merely made the archer smirk to himself, another small detail that confirmed how right the two were for each other._

 _After a little bit with Steve no where in sight, Clint suspected he was likely lecturing Tony on the meaning of "important", Natasha turned to him and asked, "Where'd Steve go?"_

 _"Not sure," He noticed she was watching his stuff with an inquisitive and puzzled looked. Then he saw her reach down for his water bottle and Clint felt his heart constrict. Uh oh._

 _As she unscrewed the top he quickly tried to stop her, "Are you sure you should be drinking his water without his-"_

 _"I do it all the time Barton," Had this not been a very crucial, game changing situation, Clint would have stored that information under more reasons to believe that Natasha liked Steve. And without another word, Natasha tilted her head back a bit and started to chug a bit of water down._

 _It took four seconds for her to drop the water and give a startling scream. Clint's heart stopped and his breathing stopped as he leapt off of the elliptical and ran to her, "Natasha! Natasha what's wrong?"_

 _Natasha clung to him tightly, staring straight ahead. Her breathing was shaky and her nails dug painfully through his shirt. Clint began to worry she was having some sort of flash back or hallucination, "Nat? Nat say something! What's wrong? What's happening?"_

 _Natasha didn't say anything though, her eyes blinking rapidly and her head spinning this way and that. After what felt like forever for the super soldier, Steve and Tony burst into the gym and ran to the two assassins. Steve stared at the two, eyes wide, "What's wrong? What's happening?" Tony stood there pale faced._

 _"I don't know-" Clint started to explain when Natasha cut him off._

 _"I-I can't see." Her voice sounded shaky, "Everything's pink. I can't see anything but pink..."_

 _Clint turned to Tony, forgetting that Natasha and Steve were there as the super solider helped Natasha slowly release Clint, "I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT WAS GOING TO WORK!"_

 _"Hey! Hey-" Tony stared at the water bottle, at the water that was left on the mats and said sheepishly, "It-It may be possible that the chemical make up of the strawberry water altered the love potion and drastically changed the effects."_

 _"Wait," Steve intervened, "Did you say love potion?"_

 _Natasha, who had almost totally released Clint, gripped his arm in an extremely tight grip she reserved for throttling people and hissed, "What the hell did you do to me?"_

 _Neither Clint nor Tony wanted to tell the two a single word about trying to set them up. Tony merely began to nervously chuckle, "Heh, funny story..."_

* * *

 _ **"Oh, don't you dare look back.**_

 _ **Just keep your eyes on me."**_

 _ **I said, "You're holding back, "**_

 _ **She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"**_

 _ **This woman is my destiny**_

 _ **She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo,**_

 _ **Shut up and dance with me."**_

The moment Steve's back was turned, Clint and Tony had immediately snuck off. The two of them maneuvered cautiously around the edge of the dance floor, taking great care to not get spotted by Natasha and Steve or get sucked in to the endless dancing themselves.

They quietly approached the DJ's booth, Tony slipping a hand into his pocket incase the man needed an incentive to complete their request. For a moment the man didn't notice him, head ducked down as he quickly tried to eat some appetizers without anyone on the dance floor noticing. The poor guy was starving, and being seen eating while at the turn table was a bit of a turn off for people. He couldn't explain why, it just was.

"Hey," Clint spoke up a bit, catching the guy's attention.

"What can I help you dudes with?"

"Immediate request for tango," Tony says, "I don't care by who."

"Tango? Nat would have to do all the leading and Steve will look like an idiot. Salsa!"

"Salsa? That's not distinguishable enough, no one will give them space!"

"Tango requires a man to lead!"

"So does salsa, and really Barton, I'm pretty sure they don't."

"That tango requires Steve to know how to do it! He can't learn in the moment!"

The DJ watched as they fought, blinking he fire he finally said, "Yo dudes. The songs gonna end soon. Tell me what you want or I'm gonna pick something myself."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "You see that hopeless blonde with the red head in the center?"

"Yeah?"

"The guy doesn't know how to dance whatsoever. And we're trying to set them up. So... What kind of song would you recommend for someone to pick up quickly."

The DJ looked at them, "I do have one song, but it's not the most romantic."

"What is it?"

 _ **Oh, come on girl!**_

Steve grinned earnestly as he looked at Natasha, "I think I'm getting the hang of it!" He spoke to her. Natasha smiled, flashing him a thumbs up as the loud music completely obliterated their ear drums.

Suddenly, the music took a turn. The loud generic music Steve had associated to be pop in this century turned slightly into some sort of western like music. There was the strumming of an acoustic guitar in the background and then high pitch children voices over took the club.

 _"I DON'T WANT TO BE A CHICKEN I DON'T WANT TO BE A DUCK SO I SHAKE MY BUTT"_

Steve and Natasha paused, as did everyone else on the dance floor before they started to do, in Steve's opinion, the weirdest dance ever. Everyone opened and closed their hands during the chicken lyric like a bird opening and closing their beaks. At the duck part everyone had their elbows bent and flapping them like they were wings. It was at this point that Natasha had reluctantly joined in.

"Just copy the crowd!" She told him and he watched with wide eyes as she, and everyone else began to wiggle their butts like the song had said.

 _ **Deep in her eyes,**_

 _ **I think I see the future.**_

 _ **I realize this is my last chance.**_

A random woman had grabbed him by the arm, linking them and suddenly Steve found himself trotting to the right with a stranger as some sort of square dance like tune played in the background. Then the woman detached herself and went for his other arm, and thankfully Steve was prepared this time. Glancing back, he saw Natasha doing the same with a man who was slightly swaying on his feet. He saw her nose scrunched up in distaste from the alcoholic aroma no doubt coming off of the stranger. For some reason, it sent a hot spike right up through Steve's chest.

The woman slipped off of his arm and Natasha slipped away from her partner, moving closer to Steve. She spotted Tony and Clint standing by the DJ, Tony filming it all on his phone. Steve followed her gaze and saw Clint, his lips moving.

"Those asses!" Natasha swore, "I'm going to kill them!"

She moved to take a step forward towards them, but then her arm had been hooked with a strangers and she was off prancing arm and arm with some random girl in a circle. Steve craned his hand back as he trotted around himself, not even looking at the stranger who linked arms with him in order to keep his eyes on her. On that shock of red hair. Something continued to burn through him and he realized that this protective, angry feeling was possibly jealousy. As ridiculous as this song was, he didn't want anyone dancing with Natasha. He didn't want any stranger dancing with her, he was suppose to be dancing with her. She was his partner.

He tore away as that ended, grabbing Natasha gently by the shoulders. Everyone around them was going from beaks to wings, he didn't really have much time. Not before she was swept away from him again. Her green eyes locked onto his blue orbs before they fell very briefly onto her lips. He leaned down, eyes closed and kissed her. His arms wrapped around her waist protectively, and he swore he heard Tony wolf whistling. Natasha's body tensed beneath his and then she relaxed beneath him.

 _ **She took my arm,**_

 _ **I don't know how it happened.**_

 _ **We took the floor and she said,**_

Natasha pulled away, just in time to slip her arm through Steve's and trot around with him in a circle. Her eyes stared at him, brighter and suddenly fuller with life. It was like Steve had opened something up deep inside of her, clearer than he'd ever seen her.

As they spun to go from right to left, Natasha leaned up into the tips of her toes and kissed him back. Murmuring softly against his lips, she whispered in Russian a phrase she knew he would never understand. Her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulled him a bit closer. And suddenly there was a small radius of space around them as people made way for them. The music went forgotten to the two Avengers, just needing to have each other for a little bit more. They waited far too long, they were never going to go so long without one another again.

 _ **"Oh, don't you dare look back.**_

 _ **Just keep your eyes on me."**_

 _ **I said, "You're holding back, "**_

 _ **She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"**_

 _ **This woman is my destiny**_

 _ **She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo,**_

 _ **Shut up and dance!"**_

As Steve pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against hers and gave a breathless grin. Natasha stared up at him, her hands lacing their fingers through his. She started to guide him back and forth, in a sort of stationary like waltz, despite the fast paced music going on around them. The chicken song had disappeared, replaced with Ariana Grande.

Green eyes stared back at innocent blue orbs, small hands wrapped around larger, slightly more calloused ones. They slowly spun in a clockwise circle with each interchangeable step, back and forth. They rocked on their toes and heels, standing so closed together it was like they were two puzzle pieces stuck together. Toes touched but didn't overlap one another, the tips of the sneakers grazing each other.

Eventually, the crowd closed a little bit more around them. Drawing closer and closer towards the dancing lovers. But they didn't interrupt the intimidate moment one bit, because the two didn't notice a single thing other than each other.

 _ **"Don't you dare look back.**_

 _ **Just keep your eyes on me."**_

 _ **I said, "You're holding back, "**_

 _ **She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"**_

 _ **This woman is my destiny**_

 _ **She said, "Ooh-ooh-hoo,**_

 _ **Shut up and dance with m**_ e."

It was then, as the two made their way back to the bar, that Steve noticed Clint and Tony. The super soldier scowled as he watched them, eyes diverted from the red haired beauty in front of him to watch the sly tricksters. As elated and freeing as it was to finally have her in arms reach, to kiss her and have her close, he couldn't help but feel like their trickery deserved some sort of consequence. Especially for that humiliating chicken dance.

Natasha stared at him, knowing without even turning her head what he was gazing at. She pressed her lips to his in a small kiss and whispered as she withdrew just slightly, "Don't worry about them," She murmured, "We'll get revenge."

"I just can't believe they couldn't leave us alone to figure it out. And that Tony had to record it on his phone. It's like he has to record our entire lives on it, he can never keep his hands off it sometimes. You'd think after nearly blinding you they'd stop, the beating you gave them should have been more than a persuasive incentive on why not. I just can't believe-"

Natasha slid her hand up to direct his gaze back at her, "Shut up and just dance with me."

He happily complied.

 ** _Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me_**

 ** _Ooh-ooh-hoo, shut up and dance with me_**

Clint smirked as he approached the bar, making a quick order to the man behind the counter. He then turned to the others with a grin, declaring proudly, "Aren't you guys gonna congratulate us? We got those two crazy kids together?"

"And that is an impressive task Archer," Thor amended, "But do you not have any concerns for your immediate safety?"

"Why should we?" Tony asked, hopping onto a bar stool and taking the glass of gin Clint ordered for him.

"Because the Lady Romanov is sending you a very intimidating look."

Clint and Tony glanced at the dance floor, seeing Natasha. Her eyes were watching them from over Steve's shoulder, flashing dangerously at them. Her lips were curled up in a devious, trademark Black Widow smirk which promised sweet sweet revenge. The two paled a bit and looked at Natasha before she disappeared from view behind the crowd of dancers.

"You guys should have minded your business," Bruce commented, "Or at least been more careful about them not seeing you up there."

"Thanks Bruce so much for that now useless advice," Tony spoke monotonously.

* * *

 **The chicken dance was the only dance I knew Steve would catch on to and the nest I could describe. Plus, humor. Why dance the tango when you can do the chicken dance? The wedding attack described in the flash back, that happened in Agents of SHIELD. I forget which episode but it's in season two.**

 **Also, Season Two of Agent Carter. Peggy doesn't have an easy love life does she? First Steve and then Sousa... The poor girl.**

 **Please Review. I'll get you the video of Romanogers kissing during the chicken dance. And tell you what Natasha murmured to Steve in Russian during the kiss!**

 **Any song suggestions? I do want to thank GabycatStark13 for her reviews. While I write these for fun, the praise is extremely appreciated.**


	10. Alive

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Alive-By Sia**

* * *

 ** _I was born in a thunderstorm_**

 ** _I grew up overnight_**

 ** _I played alone_**

 ** _I'm playing on my own_**

 ** _I survived_**

A small little red headed girl stood in a room with about 24 other girls roughly her age, possibly a year older. Her green eyes flicked from face to face, landing on the stern looking woman who stood in the center. She radiated an aura of authority that made the girls cringe and fear being reprimanded. They all stood in black shorts that barely reached mid thigh and grey tank tops made of a thin material.

The ground beneath their bare feet was cold cement, the light grey color an extremely depressing sight. Around her were white wash walls with the occasional floor to ceiling length banners hanging, a dark rich red that almost matched Natalia's hair.

The four year old little girl had not been here long, but then again not many of the other girls had been around for more than three months either. There was only a few things each of the girls had in common. They were all orphans, they were all recruited and in training to serve their homeland. Some of them had been taken from the orphanages, some of them had been taken off of the streets, Natalia herself had been taken from the snow covered ground as she watched the orange-red flames devour her family and home. All 24 girls had been recruited due to their resourcefulness. And none of them had even the foggiest idea of what horrors they were about to endure.

Natalia had learned very quickly in the first two months that the Red Room was not like home. There were no nap times here. There were no bedtime stories or night lights. Little girls, little feeble girls who cried at the sight of their shadows, were not welcomed here and she took that to mean that the Red Room would abandon her out in the cold snow. Natalia didn't whine when they received no bed time story or lullaby, she didn't cry when they handcuffed her to her bed and left her in total darkness, and she didn't dare think of breaking the rules.

And she didn't associate with the other girls. She kept to herself. The handlers and told them on the first day that they were not friends or sisters, they were rivals and competitors and possibly, if they were lucky, allies. But they were not to get close to each other, they were going to compete and had to be ready to do anything, at a drop of a hat, to ensure that they became the "Black Widow". So Natalia kept to herself and refused to seek companionship with any of the other girls.

Natalia watched silently as the handler pointed out one of the girls and motioned her forwards with two flicks of a finger. Natalia watched as the girl stepped forward, hands clasping tightly behind her back as she struggled to think of the girls name. She chewed on the inside of her lip as she thought this over.

And then the handler turned to another girl, the blonde girl who stood to Natalia's left and motioned her forward. Natalia knew that girl's name to be Antonia, and she only remembered it because Antonia was constantly scolded and made an example of by another handler.

"Antonia," The handler spoke with no drop of emotion, dark eyes watching her with not a bit of care, "Sofia."

 _'Sofia!'_ Natalia remembered as the woman gave two claps. With the signal to begin having been given, the two girls slowly circled one another.

It was Sofia who lunged first, her tiny fist connecting with Antonia's chin sharply and sending the girl stumbling backwards. Sofia moved quickly, feeling the sharp gaze of their instructor paying close attention to her, and sent a sharp kick into Antonia's stomach. The smaller girl fell backwards, the foot pressing down onto her stomach. Antonia squirmed desperately, trying to get back to her feet. The girl's legs flailed upward, weakly kicking Sofia in an attempt to get her off. But the girl pressed down harder on the smaller girl with her foot and turned to glance at their instructor. But the moment she turned her head, Antonia bit down on the other's foot. Yelping in pain, Antonia shoved the girl off of her while she was too distracted with the pain and sent a bony fist hurtling towards her face. But Sofia grabbed the girls wrist and twisted it painfully in one fluid motion, kicking Antonia's legs out from under her.

Natalia watched with barely surprised shock as Antonia was forced to the ground, Sofia sitting atop of the girl's back on her knobby knees. Sofia continued to twist Antonia's arm, bringing it back. Antonia cried out, thrashing a bit helplessly. Sofia merely continued to twist the arm back, using her free hand to slam the girls face into the concrete. And then Natalia saw red lightly splattered on the ground, a crack filling the tense silence. Now with a broken nose, a broken bloody nose, Antonia cried and begged for mercy. She cried in surrender but the instructor would have none of it, ordering Sofia to slam the girls face into the concrete again and again until she shut up.

Natalia couldn't look away as Sofia complied, feeling a sickening knot well up in her stomach.

 _ **Hey**_

 _ **I wanted everything I never had**_

 _ **Like the love that comes with light**_

 _ **I wore envy and I hated that**_

 _ **But I survived**_

Natalia sat silently in the cafeteria, staring at the food set out on the metal tray. A small serving of beef stroganoff sat on a white plate with a fork and beside it a smaller paper cup full of raisins and dried apricots. Very silently, she began to skillfully twist the beef stroganoff onto the fork and bring it to her mouth, wanting to get through the main meal so the fruit could be save for last like a dessert.

A new shipment of food had been brought in earlier that week, and the dried fruit had been a treat the handlers ordered as a sort of reward for the girls. They had been working hard, and today was the three year anniversary of the girls starting the program. The fruit was given to each girl as a sort of treat for surviving three years.

But at the same time, Natalia wished that the fruit wasn't fruit. She had always wondered what it would be like to get something with chocolate in it. Did chocolate still exist? She couldn't remember the last time she had any, but she swore she had tasted it before. How else would she know of it then? Or even a nice doll to have and own, a doll like the one she used to have before it was destroyed in the fire. At least, she believed she had once owned a doll. As the months had gone by, Natalia was finding it harder and harder to remember details of her old life. Like what her family looked like and the sound of their voices.

There had been a time when Natalia bravely asked the handlers why none of the girls had celebrated their birthdays or why they didn't receive candy or toys for their hard effort. They merely smacked her onto the ground, kicking her in the side as a consequence for her words. They had told her not to be greedy, that they were all very lucky girls to be chosen for the Red Room's Black Widow program. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to train and serve their homeland against the evils trying to eliminate the vast, powerful family. They told her only little girls played with dolls and children celebrated birthdays. She was not a child anymore, she was not a little girl. She was a Black Widow in training, Natalia was no longer a child but something far more useful. A spy in training.

So Natalia hated that she felt this way, that she was greedy. She didn't complain anymore but she was always wishing and hoping that one day they would get something sweeter than dried fruit to save for dessert. She wished that they could hold delicate little nesting dolls instead of cold knife handles for once. She wished and hoped that one day the handlers would let them be children for just a day.

As she finished her third forkful of beef stroganoff, Natalia reached for her water bottle and slowly sipped it. The flavorless beverage was not soda, it didn't bubble or taste sweet. It was plain and ordinary, perfect for spies in training while real little children drank delicious fruit juice. Sure Natalia was fed, had a place to bathe, and somewhere to sleep, but she still wished for more than dried fruit.

 ** _I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go_**

 ** _Where the wind don't change_**

 ** _And nothing in the ground can ever grow_**

 ** _No hope, just lies_**

 ** _And you're taught to cry in your pillow_**

 ** _But I'll survive_**

In the dark sleeping chamber, Natalia pressed the left side of her face as far into her pillow as possible. Around her, the beds squeaked as they all shifted their weight and struggled to find the most comfortable position they could in the bed. It was made even more difficult with the metal handcuff digging painfully into her left wrist, forced above her head as it was attached to the headboard.

Natalia slowly flexed her fingers, feeling that numbing sensation tingle through the tips of her fingers. Every night, her hand started to go numb and every morning she was terrified that her hand would never work again. Because she couldn't feel anything, and it was too numb to do anything but shake out and flex to regain the feeling. Her eyes burned, and the small child forced the sob down in her throat and pressed her face further into the flat pillow beneath her head.

The eight year old girl took a very shaky breath, keeping her eyes shut as she listened intently to the surrounding girls. The nightmare flashed behind her eyelids, reminding her of how one of the girls looked when Yelena snapped their neck. The way the girl cried just a bit before that sickening snap echoed across the silence and the limp body collapsed on the floor like a rag doll. The silence of all the girls, not a single person spoke as those dead eyes stared widely at Natalia.

Just thinking about it made her eyes burn with tears she was trying so hard to suppress. Crying was forbidden. Crying in front of the handlers was close to a death sentence, it gave them a reason to give up on you. To pick you next so unless you proved how much you wanted to love and serve Mother Russia you died and were forgotten. Most girls, including Natalia, learned to stop crying. They learned to lock that sadness deep down and persevere. But there were times where Natalia couldn't help but silently cry just a bit into her pillow at night like some of the weaker girls. She was really good at it, at doing it so no one knew. To the girls, crying shunned you away. It made you look like an easy target. They weren't suppose to be friends here, but crying ensured that you didn't have any allies.

She took a shaky breathe through her nose and shoved those memories away, focusing on the way her red and white striped pajamas felt warm against her exhausted body. She focused on how the blankets felt comfortable, despite their light weight. They weren't heavy, but they kept the girls warm enough and Natalia had learned to appreciate everything about the bed. It was a luxury that could easily be taken away.

But those memories continued to come back with other memories, of how it felt to hold a knife and what it was like stabbing something. Memories of brutal beatings from girls like Yelena, Yolanda, and Alexandra persisted, trying to make her feel weak. Natalia didn't want to be weak though, she wanted to live and be strong. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live.

 _'This place is hell,'_ The eight year old thought silently as one lone tear rolled down her cheek and onto the pillow, dissolving into the fabric, _'This place is hell.'_

All the eight year old wanted as she slowly tried to fall asleep was to survive.

 ** _I'm still breathing_**

 ** _I'm still breathing_**

 ** _I'm still breathing_**

 ** _I'm still breathing_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

The two seventeen year olds stood raving each other, not in their normal training attire but in black cat suits. Natalia stared at the blonde in front of her, remembering in excruciating detail all the merciless kills she witnessed Yelena commit. She remember how much loathing Natalia felt for her as well as the slightest bit of admiration. Natalia remembered all the times they had competed with each other, not on the training mat but their other les sons such as learning languages.

Yelena gave the other girl a dead eye smile, blonde hair straight and grey eyes flicking briefly across her in a calculating manner. Natalia was doing the same, staring at the girl with an emotionless, dead expression. Win or lose, Natalia refused to show Yelena any feelings which could impediment her survival of the fight. She stared upwards at the taller woman and waited in anticipation for their handlers to signal their last fight.

When the soft pattering claps barely echoed throughout the room, Yelena lunged like a tiger at Natalia, arms out stretched to seize her by the throat. But Natalia was quicker and she was expecting this, after spending 13 years training together and watching each other kill the other girls you learned to see some fatal habits in each other's attacks. The red head gripped Yelena tightly by the wrists, digging her fingernails sharply into the skin before forcibly pressing down on them in an attempt to snap her wrists. Only one of the wrists snap, and as that familiar sound echoed and Yelena barely concealed her cry of pain, Natalia loosened her grip ever so slightly on the other. The blonde competitor seized her opportunity to free it and socked a well placed punch at the side of Natalia's throat.

Natalia moved backwards, her nose scrunched in discomfort as Yelena procured one of the knifes hidden within her costume. They slowly circled each other, one of them with a knife and broken wrist and the other unarmed but uninjured. Natalia slid her hand into the hidden folds of her own suit to procure a weapon, but the minute she had one hand unavailable Yelena streaked forward. Natalia quickly moved to the side, narrowly missing the jab Yelena would have sent to her abdomen and revealed her own knife. Natalia brought it down towards her shoulder but the blonde clasped her free hand around it. Ignoring the pain that it caused her to do this, Yelena began to twist Natalia's arm in a painful and awkward fashion as a means for her to drop the weapon.

Natalia bent her knee upwards, and in one solid motion brought her booted foot down onto the other's side. It sent Yelena tilting sideways, but she used this momentum to pull Natalia closer and stabbed her in her upper arm. It was in there for only five seconds before Yelena spun away, releasing her grip on the other's arm, and took the knife with her.

Blood fountained from the wound, pain flaring along it as Natalia moved backwards to get some space. She could feel the blood flowing down her arm, soaking into the fabric of her suit and making the arm cling to her in a disgustingly uncomfortable manner. Natalia's eyes never left the deadly grey gaze Yelena had on her, watching the red head with an almost predatorily look. Natalia took a deep breath in, looking for a whole in Yelena's defenses. Yelena had been initiating most of the attacked so far, and while Natalia was holding a strong defense she had to catch Yelena off guard while she was recovering and planning.

Tightening the hold on her knife, Natalia sprinted for the girl with the attention mostly on her tightly wielded fist. Yelena snatched Natalia's fist, holding it in a vice like grip as her weaker, injured hand held the knife loosely. She pressed down harder and harder on Natalia's wrist, slowly cracking the bones in a much more painful and grueling manner as she had broken Yelena's wrist. The pain itself caused Natalia to clench her jaw as a means of enduring it.

"Poor little Natalia," Yelena crooned insultingly, "So close... But we both know you don't have what it takes to be the Black Widow. We all knew it was always going to me. We all knew that someday I would be the last one standing, while you girls burned in hell like the failures you are. Poor little Natali-AH"

Natalia stared her right in the eyes and stabbed the cocky bitch in the middle of her sentence. Yelena stared, gasping from the shock and pain as she stared down to see a knife embedded where her ribs ended, and with a sickening feeling worried and wondered if the knife breached her pancreas or any other organs. As she stood in shock, Natalia wrestled the knife fairly easily from Yelena's other hand. But once Natasha had firmly gripped it, Yelena's hands were coiled around her throat in a crushing grip. It left the red head gasping faintly for air, using one hand to claw at the others as she struggled to get Yelena off. Natalia's chest started to ache and her vision beginning to blur at the edge. Her grip was slipping on the newly required knife. And then she remembered that she had a knife and gripped it firmly.

Yelena gave a pained shriek as Natalia drove the knife deep in her hip, giving it an extra twist which loosened the grip around her throat. But before Yelena could take hold of her again, Natalia slipped away. But suddenly Yelena had taken hold of Natalia by the back of her head, hand fisting her red hair, and yanked her backwards. Loosing her balance, the shorter seventeen year old fell backwards onto her butt, staring up at the pissed off blonde as a boot was brought down mercilessly on her face. Blood spurted over her face as a disgusting crack echoed, the pain sharp and hot. Her hand immediately went up to cover the blood flow and injured nose, green eyes wet with pained tears. They slid out from the very corners of her eyes and rolled down her face, dripping onto the concrete.

"You bitch!" Yelena hissed angrily, taking out another knife. She was on top of Natalia before she had a chance to get up, shoving her completely down onto the ground and sitting on top of her.

Natalia gripped Yelena's hands as she held the knife, wrestling with the blonde in order to keep her from stabbing Natalia to death. Their arms trembled and Natalia pressed as hard as she could, trying to ignore the pain in her arm. She felt a bit light headed from the blood loss and wondered how Yelena must feel with those knives still in her side.

If Natalia could merely yank the knives out, Yelena would die sooner. The blood loss would weaken and then kill her. But that was too dangerous, letting go of one of Yelena's hands would mean death.

"You're nothing," Yelena hissed, "You're nothing but a pawn, a tool, something for me to crush and suffocate the same way a spider wraps it's pray in silky webbing before sucking it's blood out. You're an insect. A ladybug. A grasshopper. A cricket... Useless bugs. Spiders are useful, they kill other bugs and benefit the world. They're overlooked and people are always killing them but that's because they don't understand how valuable spiders are. And _I_ will become the Black Widow!"

Yelena's arm hovered closer to Natalia, and the red head did the first thing she could think of. She brought her head up, tilted it, and bit down on Yelena's arm. The blonde screamed in outrage rather than pain, pulling back. Natalia released her hands, instead gripping the handle that was stuck in the girls side and ripped it out. The blood flooded out like the water withheld by a broken dam, staining the concrete floor as it puddled beneath them. Yelena's hand turned red as she struggled to cover the wound.

Natalia backed away, getting to her feet, and watched as the color red continued to drop onto the floor. She watched Yelena's knees start to shake and felt a pang of guilt in her chest. The blonde looked back, staring at their handlers as their eyes fell towards Natalia expectantly.

Those grey eyes widened heartbrokenly, because Yelena knew that she was done. She was dead in the eyes of her teachers and nurturers, that they were waiting in expectation to see the red head finish her off. Everything she worked so hard towards, her dreams and ambitions, they did not matter anymore. She failed.

Natalia couldn't bring herself to continue watching Yelena any longer and pulled from the hidden folds of her suit, a sleek little pistol. It was light in her palm and she stared at Yelena, unable to watch the woman any longer. To die slowly under the watchful gaze of people you admire was not a fate for Yelena. For anyone. It needed to be quick. So, Natalia flicked the safety off and her green eyes watched Yelena as her grey eyes locked with Natalia. They hardened angrily, and despite the pain she was in, Yelena removed the knife from her side and gripped it tightly. Then she charged, on shaky legs as her face paled several shades and she gripped a blood coated knife.

The snap of the gun going off was the last thing Natalia truly heard, everything else sounded muffled. Like she was half deaf or everything was being filtered through a pillow. The bullet hit Yelena in the chest and her body crumbled to the concrete with a thud, labored breathing racketing throughout the silence for a few seconds before she was officially dead. Before Natalia officially became the Black Widow.

 ** _I found solace in the strangest place_**

 ** _Way in the back of my mind_**

 ** _I saw my life in a stranger's face_**

 ** _And it was mine_**

It was a room she had entered multiple times before, but it was still as unrecognizable as ever. Natalia followed behind her handler and the scientists, not once hesitating or suspicious as she stared at the machine in the center. It looked like a large MRI scanner, a circular chamber that a bed like slab slid you in to. She approached it silently at the instruction of her handler, staring at it with keen observational eyes.

"What does it do?" She tilted her head, allowing the red curls to shift over her shoulder. But she received no answer, much to her unease.

"Lay down Natalia, we don't have any time to waste," Her handler responded in an ever familiar cold tone.

Her movements were slow as she turned and gently slid her body along the long white slab. At the end of it was a little structured block she was instructed to set her head against and it made the assassin think of it similar to a pillow. It even had the crest in the center from where the head would have flattened a normal pillow. But this was hard and cold, and she was instructed to hold still as a scientist approached her with a needle. She merely stared ahead, not trying to get distracted or caught up in the way her heart started to beat a little harder and a little faster. Or how her palms were growing just the tiniest bit sweaty and goosebumps slowly rose along her arms.

The needle was brought up right to her temple, and the young woman didn't even flinch as the clear substance in it drain itself at the press of a plunger into her body. And for a moment, nothing happened. Natalia felt the same as ever, her body didn't ache in pain and she wasn't having any hallucinations. Even her vision was blurring.

But then, as the whir of the machine echoed in her head, Natalia realized that it was becoming harder and harder to close her eyes and blink. She also found it extremely difficult to suddenly turn her head, and the sound of the machine was more keenly observed.

Outside of the machine, the scientists began to diligently twist one final knob along the exterior. A glow of interchangeable light filtered out from the opening where Natalia's feet stuck out.

Ever since she had killed Yelena and claimed the title as the one and only Black Widow, the Red Room had gone to great lengths to prevent their greatest agent from succumbing to PTSD or remembering information they didn't want her to. Every week or two, a handler and their scientists would bring Natalia down and have her lay down in the machine.

The purpose of it was to prevent the girl from recalling her missions, to suppress her memories. The handlers were not stupid, they knew that no matter how disciplined a person was, there was no way for a person to protect themselves from the destructive consequences which came from committing a murder or going through torture. They needed her to remember her training, but they couldn't afford to have the Black Widow going through flashbacks in the midst of her mission or have PTSD nightmares that compromised her. It was too keep her in peak mental condition, to not remember whatever guilt or mercy she may have started to feel after a kill. So they wiped her memory, they did the treatment every week or bi weekly to keep the suppressed memories at bay. And when she was away on a mission, they just made the session longer.

Not only were they wiping her memory though, they were subliminally placing specific words that would immediately reset her behavior. They were fail safe measures to ensure that, if she ever did try to leave them, they would stop her. They had trigger words to reset her memory where her objective was to kill anyone who wasn't a part of the Red Room and to return to them.

Natalia was a stranger to herself, she had no recollections of what she done and why she did and how she even felt about it. She was a permanent tabula rasa, a blank slate. She was a stranger with nothing, her memories blurry or forgotten, suppressed in the deepest darkest depths of her brain alongside all of the emotions she stored. Her mind was the place Natalia Romanova dwelled, the safe place where she could be herself. And the saddest thing was that it was defenseless against the torturous hands of the Red Room.

 ** _I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go_**

 ** _Where the wind don't change_**

 ** _And nothing in the ground can ever grow_**

 ** _No hope, just lies_**

 ** _And you're taught to cry in your pillow_**

 ** _But I survived_**

Grigory Drakov was one of the first on a long list of people the Red Room had a special grudge against. Drakov was a small but irritating thorn in the Red Room's side, a man who had once been a loyal supporter of the Red Room before actually learning what they did. When the man learned just what exactly the Red Room was doing, training and killing innocent little girls to create the perfect assassin, he immediately turned against them. He started to run an anti-espionage campaign outside of Russia, trying to protect ignorant countries from falling pray to Black Widows while bringing awareness of the brutal training conditions worldwide. Her handlers viewed him like a jellyfish, spineless. They had sent him warnings to seize his efforts before they took measures against him. Sadly, Drakov ignored them, choosing to relocate to England however to better protect his family.

His daughter, Galina, was her target. Drakov was a fool to go against the Red Room, to continue poking the bear, and the Red Room deemed that his punishment would be the death of his daughter. The consequence of his actions, of his betrayal to them, was the death of his child. Natalia didn't question it. She didn't protest. She took the assignment and boarded the first flight possible to England.

The Red Room hadn't given her specific instructions, leaving Natalia mostly on her own to complete the assassination and contact them once she was finished. At first, the young woman was worried about how to proceed without getting caught. She didn't know how to infiltrate the building without being seen by any pesky neighbors, but then she saw in her visual surveillance that Drakov hires a nanny to watch over his precious little Galina. And then the plan slowly concocted itself before her.

* * *

Disposing of the nanny was perhaps the most difficult task, because Natalia didn't want Drakov to suspect for even a minute that the woman had been killed by an assassin. No matter how likely it may be, the red head could not risk it and had to settle for something less bloody.

She had considered sending the woman away on a fake vacation or urgent trip to see family but that would be suspicious, especially if the nanny talked with family. She had considered smothering the woman to death but it would show up on the autopsy. She had considered running the woman over like a hit and run but that was sloppy, there was no guarantee the woman would be killed or how Natalia could plan it. Natalia had even considered slipping some cyanide into the woman's pills but not only would the death look suspicious to those who knew her, the nanny was extremely healthy. And then Natalia had come up with it.

She had been researching the nanny ever since she learned about the position and knew almost everything about the woman. Natalia knew that her name was Vanessa Wilkes, that she was 25 years old, single, and was allergic to nuts. A severe allergy. All it would take would be something with nuts or nut oil in it and the woman would die.

Natalia waited patiently until there was an evening Vanessa wasn't home before she silently broke in through the bedroom window. It was extremely quiet, the entire flat pitch black. Natalia didn't dare turn a light on in fear that a neighbor would see it and call the cops. She moved cautiously through the house and opened the fridge, peering inside to see what there was. The tin foil wrapped container of Chinese food was just what Natalia was looking for.

Inside the circular container was around three spring rolls, with what inside Natalia didn't quite know, with fried rice resting underneath it like a cushion. Beside the spring rolls was a tiny cup covered in tightly wrapped plastic wrap. Inside was some unidentifiable dark sauce, and Natalia smirked deviously. Bringing it to her nose, the overpowering aroma made her quickly recoil and reach into the small little backpack she was wearing. She pulled out a small bottle of peanut oil and a bag of finely crushed unsalted cashews.

Natalia poured the oil into the sauce, taking a small little toothpick from her bag to help stir it in. Once she was done, bringing it up to her nose to sniff it and finding the peanut scent completely masked, she covered the sauce again and placed it back where she belong. She considered adding the cashews but realized that if Vanessa ate the rice first, it would look extremely strange if they found the cashews in the rice. The peanut oil in the sauce was different, not many people knew what was in sauces and it would look like a freak accident by the restaurant.

After rewrapping the food and placing it back in the fridge, she moved through the drawers and cabinets in search of the epipen she knew was hidden. Finding it in the third drawer to the right of the fridge, Natalia took the small object and brought it over to a cabinet all the way to the left and hid it against the cabinet wall hidden next to a box of crackers. Then, without another word, she left.

And by tomorrow afternoon, Vanessa Wilkes died from an allergic reaction to the sauce.

* * *

Sitting very silently on the grey couch, Natalia looked at Drakov with a wide, pearly white smile. Her green eyes sparkled in false excitement, not that he could tell, and she sat perfectly poised to convey her false feelings.

"Miss Bailey-"

"Please," Natalia spoke in a sweet tone, a false but extremely convincing British accent contorting the way she sounded, "Call me Cadence."

"Alright Cadence," Now it was Drakov's wife who was talking, glancing up at her husband silently.

Natalia found them an odd couple. Drakov himself stood at six feet, with broad shoulders and sturdy physique. He had piercing grey eyes and his face was molded with sharp angles. He had dark brown hair gelled back off of his face and a matching bushy mustache. There were a few strands of grey along his lip and stretching from his temples, she suspected they came from the stress of running his campaign. His wife Ivanna was 5'4", a frailer woman who was still slightly plump and round from Galina's pregnancy. But other than that her arms were so thin and her wrists so tiny Natalia didn't understand how that could be considered healthy. She had rounder features, with a wide nose. Unlike her husband, she had very fair, thin blonde hair and dark brown eyes which contrasted sharply against her pale skin.

"Galina is a very finicky child," Dravok explained, "She goes through certain phases where she won't eat anything but one thing. Last week it had been oranges, two weeks prior it was Popsicles."

"She's a very high maintenance child," Ivanna agreed, "We aren't very sure if you would be able to handle her."

"I can assure you," Natalia smiled, almost feeling bad for this poor mother. What kind of brat had she given birth to? "There isn't a child yet who I haven't managed to tame. Galina can be as stubborn as she likes, I'm even more stubborn."

"Stubborn?" The woman frowns, "No, no, I would much rather you give in to her. She has a banshee like shriek and it would be much better if we keep her happy."

Natalia didn't fault to notice that Drakov scowled deeply at that, sensing an old conflict that still lived on between the two. She would take advantage of this.

"With all due respect Mrs. Drakov, spoiling a child will only make it worse in the long run. I promise you that none of my methods will physically harm Galina, I will only teach her the meaning of no. She needs to learn that while she will be your little princess, she isn't an actual princess."

"It's just that Vanessa always did as she wanted," The concerned mother insisted, and Natalia resisted scowling, because there was no way in hell she was going to agree to spoiling the little girl. Natalia grew up in hell, this young little girl didn't appreciate the things she had whatsoever. _'Perhaps it is fitting she dies.'_

"And Vanessa isn't here," Drakov reminded, "It's time Galina learns about limits and the meaning of no. I am sick and tired of you spoiling her. Back when I was a-"

"Excuse me?" The wife hissed, "I spoil her? I didn't see you telling her no two says ago when-"

Natalia wisely chose to clear her throat, pulling the couple away from whatever argument they were about to launch themselves into. They turned to her, straightening and began to carry on with the interview. But as they continued, Natalia saw that they were both distracted from the argument they were almost prepared to throw themselves in. She saw in their eyes what they thought of her, Dravok satisfied and even a bit pleased with her while his wife was hesitant and disapproving. But that wouldn't matter, because this woman was merely worried about upsetting her child. She didn't even think to worry about her child's life being in danger.

* * *

Galina sat with a glare as she stared at Natalia, eyes narrowed as she regarded the new nanny. It had only been three days, three days in which Natalia surveyed her surroundings and planned escape routes. But in that time she had acted as nanny Cadence Bailey, who Galina learned to hate with every fiber of her being. The little girl hated the red head, hated how she was denied everything she wanted.

Natalia stared at the small three year old, a small little thing who possessed the strong structure of her father but round features of her mother. Her dark brown eyes scrutinized the woman as she stepped closer, closing the bedroom door behind her. Galina's brown hair was tied back in two pigtail braids, and she wore the most obnoxiously yellow night gown Natalia had the displeasure of seeing. The child sat defiantly on the bed, hearing the sound of her door locking but not recognizing it.

"I don't wanna go to bed!"

"I know," Natalia said, "But you have to go to bed Galina."

"You can't make me! I hate you!"

"Do you think I care?" The British accent was gone, replaced instead with the smooth familiar tones of her Russian accent. The child noticed the change immediately and said,

"You sound just like mummy and daddy."

Natalia stepped closer and closer, "Galina, it's time to go to sleep."

Galina stared up at Natalia, watching as a small little object was removed from her pocket and pointed it at the child. It looked to her like an L, but bulky and misshapen. It was pointed at her and suddenly, the hatred and anger Galina was feeling flushed right out of her. It was replaced with fear, chilling fear that made her whimper.

Natalia showed no remorse as she completed her mission.

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm alive**_

 ** _I'm alive_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

 ** _I'm alive_**

Brazil was beautiful; a colorful country filled with luscious rain forests, bustling streets, delicious cuisines, and astounding works of architecture. São Paulo was a place of beauty and people in Brazil, and Natalia found her work in the overlooked sections. The sections where the poor suffered and gangs hid in the alleys, where the drug dealing and fighting was done where tourists wouldn't see it.

She moved through the streets, her red hair pulled back out of her face in a pony tail. She was dressed, not in a cat suit, but in normal attire. In a dark blue floral blouse, nice denim jeans, black flats which pinched her heels, and a slightly floppy rimmed hat and sunglasses to keep the sun out of her eyes.

As she walked, Natalia couldn't help but struggle to recite the plans for her mission over and over again. The Red Room had been contacted by two different drug cartels, competing at a stalemate. The two groups were both vying for the Red Room's support, promising resources if they sent an assassin out to kill the other leaders. But, there was a third group, far more powerful than the other two located in Uruguay that wanted the other two cartels dethroned so it could expand. They were offering greater resources than the other two cartels combined. So Natalia was on the side of the third party, playing a triple agent. It was... different. Nothing she had done before but not something impossible.

Natalia moved swiftly through the crowds, heading towards a small little church. She marveled silently at how a simple building, a simple idea, could bring two feuding individuals together for a brief moment under the faith of God. Both leaders, Arsenio Ferro and Vincente Castro, were members of the same church and one day out of every week they set aside their differences to worship with other hard working, faithful individuals.

It was a very small building, a rusty red brick structure with a darker, red brown tiled roof. The roof had a steep slope to it, a thin bronze cross protruding straight up from the edge of it. The dark stone steps were concealed by the crowd of individuals inching their way into the building. Looking upwards, Natalia saw a large circular stain glass window of a bearded man in a white robe. Natalia looked down at her clothes, then back at the people around her who were dressed in blouses and dress button down shirts, relieved to see that she was dressed appropriately enough.

Entering inside, Natalia shrugged her way as cautiously and silently as possible, clasping the purse that hung over her shoulders tightly. She made her way silently up a spiral staircase, the dark wood covered by thick red carpeting. As she crept up them, she glanced back at the crowd of people who were shoving forward to get their seats. She heard the children, some of them protesting while others pushed through the crowds earnestly. She then saw some of Ferro's men enter and made her way quickly up the spiral staircase before she was spotted.

The small balcony she entered looked down and outwards at the row of pews before her. She stared down at the people, spotting the two men on either side of the center aisle with leather bound books in their laps. She quietly opened her purse, pulling from it a small sniper handgun that the scientists in the Red Room had invented. It was a prototype but had done exceedingly well in the tests they performed on it. It was like a small hand gun but it had the accuracy and power of a sniper rifle.

Natalia crouched down beneath the railing, removing her sunglasses and hat as she watched the last few people trickle in. The balcony was positioned in the far back right corner of the church, out of direct sight from the priest and pastors down below. She was crouched on her knees, where usually a cellist or violinist sat and played accompany music to the service. But music in this church, she had researched, was saved for serious or special services like funerals, marriages, or Easter services. It was the best position to shoot two quick bullets unseen and escape.

She sat on her knees, listening in bored silence for forty five minutes. Natalia had never stepped foot in a church before, not one that she remembered of course, and found herself incapable of focusing on the words that the religious individuals down below spoke. She couldn't focus on it, Natalia found the information they spread to one another irrelevant and pointless. But at the same time she didn't know the meaning of faith, she knew of killing and fighting and what blood felt like when it was coating your fingers. Faith, blind faith that religion required, was foreign to her.

Natalia peeked her head over the railing as she heard the sound of around maybe 300 people rise to their feet. She watched as some bowed their head and tilted her gun accordingly so it was aimed at Vincente. He was the one farthest away and it would be easier to shoot from far away first then the closer man. She sat very quietly, finger wrapped gently over the trigger and waited. Her eyes skimmed a bit over the people around him, seeing a small five year old boy sitting on front of the drug lord and an elderly woman to his immediate left. And then, without another second to waste, Natalia pulled the trigger.

Screams filled the silent church as Vincente Castro collapse to the ground, a bloody hold erupting from where his dark black greasy hair usually was. The men around Vincente turned, one of the men shoving the elderly lady behind him as they turned their weapons onto Ferro's men and in the chaos Natalia shot at the bald drug lord. Then, as Ferro fell right in the middle of the aisle, more people began to give in to the hysteric screaming. The priest stood, trying to bring order back in his sanctuary but gunfire began to break out. One of Vincente's men had fired upwards towards her, on the hopes of killing Natalia and avenging the fallen man, but the gun was not suited for such actions. The bullet hardly made it and Ferro's men mistook the gunfire to be directed at them and returned it. Chaos reigned as people shoved children under pews or ran for the doors.

Natalia took that as her cue to get the hell out of there. She shoved the gun back into her purse and clipped it shut, shoving the hat onto her head and the sunglasses up her nose as she took the stairs two at a time. People were surging outwards from the front door and she quickly merged with the crowd. She could still hear the gunfire, threats being shouted in portuguese and the cries of innocent casualties. The red head continued to move, briskly walking with the crowd before she slipped away. She couldn't stay, it was only a matter of time before the cops showed up to break this up. And besides...

She had finished her mission.

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

 _ **You took it all, but I'm still breathing**_

With her red locks tied back in a neat and proper bun, Natalia glided through the sterile white hallways as if she were a ghost. Doctors passed her very silently, not once glancing back at her. She wore light blue hospital scrubs, nose and mouth covered by a face mask. As she passed a room, she faintly heard the hysteric sobs of a family and continued on her way with a neutral expression. She couldn't get distracted by the sick and dying that surrounded her, and forced back the icy chill weaving across her spine as she went deeper and deeper into the building.

For two years, the Red Room had been searching in vein to locate a rogue agent. The agent had fled two years ago, going MIA after partially completing a mission that didn't require the Black Widow's attention. For two years they had been searching for the traitor, worried that any day the organization would be revealed to the world. Every day Natalia woke up not knowing if that was the day some armed forces would break into the base. It wasn't until the fool was admitted into a hospital in Estonia did they find them.

The Black Widow had to admit that the foolish agent was rather wise. Instead of fleeing farther out, away from Russia, like they predicted, they hid in a small country right across the border that some people didn't know about. If only they hadn't been in a car accident, the poor agent wouldn't be facing the consequences he long deserved. Natalia wouldn't have been sent to the hospital, disguised as a nurse. The Black Widow wouldn't have gone down to the boiler room and cut the electrical cord which connected all the fire alarms to the Hospital's electrical lines.

Her shoes clacked against the tile floor as she watched the room numbers go by. B09, B11, B13... She walked silently until she finally came across B23, opening the door very quietly and peeking inside. Seeing no one else but her victim, Natalia flicked a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door and entered the room.

Laying in bed, two brown eyes watched the Russian assassin as she approached the bed. Dark black hair, once cut short in a buzz it like manner, draped across the pale forehead and clung messily to the pillow. His left leg was wrapped in a bright white cast, propped up to alleviate discomfort. Bandages covered the length of his arms, concealing injuries she could only imagine caused by broken glass. The individual was a bit hazy from the pain killers they were on, which was better for the Black Widow.

She approached them very silently, grabbing two pairs of handcuffs from her pockets. They watched her very confused as she snapped the handcuffs to his wrists, one on his right and one on his left, then snapped the handcuffs around the metal bed railing. As they opened their mouth in protest, recognizing something was wrong, she shove a roll of gauze between the mans teeth and wrapped a long cloth around his mouth to hold the gag in place. He screamed against it but it came out as a muffled noise. The woman started to speak in Russian.

"You were a foolish coward to leave," She whispered in their native tongue, watching them scream and struggle.

But no one would come to save him, no one would hear his screams. She dug into her pockets, pulling out flammable materials in her pocket that she had come equipped with such as dried excelsior. Between the excelsior, some extra blankets she had found around the room, and some alcohol which she poured across the man, Natalia had the makings of a fire ready. The excelsior rested all around his head and feet, scattered carefully across his body. The blanket was draped over him, protecting the excelsior from the wet alcohol. The body thrashed as she produced a lit match.

"No one leaves us. You die with us or by us." The match fell and the red head spun on her heels as the flames erupted and exited the room. She barely opened the door, slipping out as the man screamed loudly behind her. The sign stayed on the door as she walked down the hall briskly, none of the doctors suspecting whatsoever of the tragedy about to befall the hospital.

Although, as she crossed the lobby and stepped onto the sidewalk, Natalia wasn't fully aware of what tragedy she caused. She had removed her medical mask, and as she began to turn the corner and remove her hair hair from it's perfect bunk screams of terror urged her to look back. Orange-yellow flames ate angrily up the side of the second floor, black smoke spilling out of the windows. The fire climbed hungrily, searching for food to satisfy the unsatisfiable hunger. The Black Widow could not help but stare at the flames, shaking as a forgotten memory dares to rear itself from the back of her mind. She remembered feeling the heat against her own skin, of screaming and crying. She felt a twist in her stomach, accompanied by nausea, as she thought of the undefinable number of infants and pregnant woman who were likely suffocating on the thick smoke and burning alive.

Never before had she felt so sick to her stomach by her actions, and never before had the Black Widow lost her cool collective facade in favor of running blindly from the scene of the crime.

 _ **I had made every single mistake**_

 _ **That you could ever possibly make**_

 _ **I took and I took and I took what you gave**_

 _ **But you never noticed that I was in pain**_

 _ **I knew what I wanted; I went in and got it**_

 _ **Did all the things that you said that I wouldn't**_

 _ **I told you that I would never be forgotten**_

 _ **And all in spite of you**_

The twang of his bow echoed in her ears despite the chaotic noise filtering in from outside. The arrow pierced the pillar right behind her, her heart thundering as she quickly regained her balance along the beam. Her eyes flew towards the shooter, genuinely curious as to what fool dared to go up against her because, honestly, what assassin used a bow and arrow like Robin Hood?

There was very little light up along the crossbeams, the dry air extremely stale with thick dust particles threatening to choke her airways. Her knees were bent, positioned oddly to keep traction and balance along the angled beams. Beneath her, despite not seeing it, was the stage with it's hard unforgiving wooden floor. Around them were beams and other structures; such as stage lights, a catwalk, hoisted up rolls of background and other special affect things she didn't really care to know about. It was difficult to see but she was able to just barely make out the man who fired at her.

He had a lean but physically defined man, most of the visible muscle rippling along his revealed arms. He was tall, she could tell from the way his legs were awkwardly bent underneath him and how he was bent over to avoid hitting his head. She saw the outline of the bow in his right hand and the quiver on his back. She could make out the very ends of his arrows from the top of the ovular object. But his facial features were obscured in the darkness, and for a moment she wondered if she would be able to shoot him before he fully saw her.

But before she could explore that thought any further, a slight little peep began to echo through the darkness and her eyes turned towards the arrow. A red little dot was flicker, flickering faster and faster as the beeping got louder. She quickly backed away, trying to get as far away from it as possible before it exploded.

 _BEEEEEP_

The long, drawn out noise was accompanied by an intensely bright flash. Flashes of color briefly flickered in Natalia's vision, spots of blue, yellow, and green dancing brightly as she struggled to reassess the situation and surroundings. Her right hand clasped tightly around the dark black bag slung across her shoulders, as if any minute it'll be pulled right off of her. And then she finally realized that, instead of a tiny exploding device in the arrow head, it had instead illuminated the dark ceiling. And she got a better look at the archer who dared to cross her.

She noticed his eyes first, two stormy blue eyes the perfect combination of steely grey and light blue. They stared at her in the sake calculating manner she stared at him with. His hair, still slightly obscured by the shadows, was a light brown shade she shouldn't classify as either dirty blonde or just extremely light hair. It was fair enough to be dirty blonde but she didn't know if there was any blonde in it. He had a square, strong jaw and wore a dark black outfit with just some purple accents along the side. She saw on the black quiver, the faint bird symbol she had come to recognize as the symbol of S.H.I.E.L.D..

The moment his hand reached back for another arrow, Natalia was already in motion. The gun had come out of it's holster, a bang noise echoing around them as she fired at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He spun out of the way, keeping his balance along the sturdy but rather thin metal beam. His arrow flew towards her, but she jump backwards towards the beam behind her. Her body flipped in the air, toes landing at a point along the steel girder with the grace of a ballerina. Her finger pulled the trigger another time, a bit satisfied when she heard a slight hiss from the archer. She kept moving though because a stationary target was excruciatingly easy to take out.

Natalia leapt from beam to beam, zigzagging and running along them with a grace almost unbecoming of the assassin. She didn't dare wait to see what the archer would do, trying to get some distance and an advantage over him. She believed that eventually he would slip, placing too much weight on one side and fall all the way to his death.

But Hawk-Eye, he watched her with wide eyes at the way she moved from beam to beam, trying to get distance between them. A million questions popped silently in his head as he cautiously followed her, trying to waste as little time as possible jumping from beam to beam. How could such a deadly, re-known assassin have such astounding grace? How could she not have a single physical flaw? But he watched her with neutral eyes, keeping a passive and unbiased view of her as he ran as fast as he could after her. He couldn't let himself get distracted by the most deadly woman in the world.

The archer leapt onto the same girder she was running along and ran faster, being extremely cautious with each step so he didn't fall. While Natalia's footsteps were much more sure, her small feet graceful, it was as though God decided to make his every movement jerky and clumsy. He notched another arrow, lining it up, but just as he was ready to fire she jumped upwards, hands catching hold of the beam above and swung her feet back to catch him in the face. The archer skidded to a stop as best he could, stumbling as her feet caught his chest instead. He fell back, hands quickly scrabbling to hold on to the beam as his body slid sideways.

The red head swung overhead, watching him silently as her fingers tightened around the steel and she hoisted herself up onto the beam above them. Shadows concealed the upper half of her face, and the ringing of gunfire echoed as the bullets panged against the metal. It took Hawk-Eye three seconds to make the decision of letting go and as he did, he immediately reached out and wrapped his arms around the nearest beam, trying to not groan at the pull his shoulders and back went through.

Believing that the agent was no longer a concern, she hadn't heard the thud of his body hitting the ground but assumed she had the upper hand should he return, Natalia leapt from the girder she was on, gripping the rail of the catwalk and flipped onto the suspending platform.

But Hawk-Eye was not yet defeated, he pulled himself up onto the girder and watched her as she held herself determinedly, strutting across the metal platform. His line of sight followed her path, going ahead of her and smirked confidently. His calloused fingers picked a very specific arrow and he drew it back in his bow. Aiming the shot, he fired and watched as it flew sightless,y through the air and attached to the very bottom of the platform. A white light blinked, but Natalia couldn't see it.

The moment she's three feet away, approaching where the arrow is, Clint presses the button which triggers it and the arrow exploded. It was a strange explosion, not the kind that explodes outward. Rather, it sort of imploded, pulling everything inwards and down. The entire catwalk snapped in half at that moment, and the red headed woman tumbled through the air as gravity pulled her to the stage. The only proof he had that she didn't use the same quick thinking he did was the sound of her body impacting at the bottom.

Her breathing came out ragged, _exhausted_ as her green eyes as she raised her head from the wooden stage floor. Skillfully, the archer made his way down to the ground safely, riding down from an arrow. The moment his feet touched the ground another arrow was drawn, his eyes on her as she tried to get up. The backpack had broken her fall and she felt beneath the fabric that the bomb was most definitely broken. A pained hiss barely made its way between her teeth as a hand went to her abdomen, feeling around it very gently. She had to guess that most, if not all her ribs, were cracks or broken. And it hurt like a bitch.

Her green eyes stared back at his, knowing that she was in too much pain to move quick enough to take him out and any fast movement could send a rib right through her lungs, killing her. She saw the arrow leveled at her and she let her shields slip just slightly. She settled her head back and waited quietly for the archer to end her. Her gun had fallen too far away, she was in no shape to fight and she honestly didn't want to fight. Not any more. She was done living her life killing random people for stupid reasons.

But the arrow never fired, Clint Barton couldn't bring himself to do it. She was letting him do this. She was laying there, allowing him the opportunity to kill her and go back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. He couldn't kill her. She was broken and defeated and haunted just like he had been when Phil Coulson found him. Clint knew that the mission was to kill her, but something told him that there was another solution.

He lowered his weapon, footsteps echoing in her ears as he approached her. He got down slowly on his knees and looked down at Natalia, watching as her green eyes stared up at him in confusion. He slowly slid his arms underneath her back and slowly helped the injured woman sit up.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, Russian accent slightly noticeable. Her nose scrunched up in confusion, the expression drawing her eyebrows closely together.

For a moment, he didn't answer, merely watching her reaction. She wasn't trying to kill him, she could easily attack him while he showed some drop in his defenses by helping her. He then said, in simple words, "Helping you."

 _ **And I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm still breathing**_

 _ **I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **I'm alive (You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **(You took it out, but I'm still breathing)**_

 _ **I'm alive**_

Natalia didn't like the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D..

He was unnecessarily loud and vulgar, which made her extremely uncomfortable. He wore all black and wore an eyepatch like a pirate. He held around him this intimidating aura which came mostly from his loud, vulgar language and what she could only assume to be a willingness, like her, to do whatever it took to complete the mission. But his mission was different than her missions, he was protecting people where as she was killing them. And she knew he didn't like her back. He had cussed and addressed her to Agent Barton as if she wasn't even there. He told Agent Barton that she should be dead, a carcass.

Natalia would have taught this man a lesson if she could, but she wanted to be good. She didn't want to betray Agent Barton's good faith. She wanted to cleanse her ledger of all the red blood she covered it in for the wrong cause.

Natalia did not like any of the agents. They all stared at her with fear or apprehension, watching her every move as she strutted past them besides Agent Barton. She heard, no matter what tongue they spoke or how quietly they spoke, the little rumors and words they said as she came walking towards them and as she walked farther and farther away from them. She did not blame them for gossiping, she was a woman with a big reputation. But she was not heartless like they said, she did not enjoy killing. She was emotionless because she was raised to keep her emotions locked away. Emotions compromised people and she was trained to not feel remorse. To not feel anything for anyone.

Natalia did not hate Agent Coulson.

She didn't feel an immediate attraction towards the man, it actually annoyed her with how close Agent Coulson and Agent Barton were. But he treated her like she was a human, he treated her civilly and she respected that. She liked that. He would shake her hand and talk to her in this calm but not condescending voice and offered his assistance when Agent Barton couldn't give it. Natalia liked that, it made her think that she could learn to like Agent Coulson, but she stayed cautious. She would take it very slow, watch Coulson for any deceit.

Natalia liked Agent Barton though.

He was a bit of a pain in the ass, she had learned after enduring a couple horrible jokes on the flight to the Helicarrier. But he had faith in her, he was sticking his neck out for her. He should have killed her, he had an opportunity so many others didn't and yet he decided to be her friend. He decided to try and help her, to give her a redemption. He was giving her an opportunity she never had before. He was annoying and maybe a bit too friendly for her liking, but that was how he is and she would just need to adjust to it. She liked him. He was very supportive and wanted to help her.

And maybe it was time Natalia let someone help her.

 _ **I'm alive**_

 _ **I'm alive**_

 _ **I'm alive**_

 _ **I'm alive**_

Natalia looked down at the pile of paperwork she needed to fill out, the pen pinched tightly between her fingers. To her right was a stack of papers she had had finished filling out, most of it just pointless things about the mission Agent Barton had retrieved her from and acknowledgement from her that she must go through extensive surveillance given her history and a required psych analysis. On the left was the paperwork she still needed to complete.

The door slid open, but she didn't need to fully look up to know it was Agent Barton. The man nudged the sleeping agent awake, the man who had been assigned to watch her do this while the archer was at another debrief. The man jumped awake, startled and embarrassed as he stared at the unimpressed superior agent. With a jerk of the thumb, the agent scrambled from the room and left the two alone.

"How's the paperwork going?" He asked, taking a seat across from her as he watched her hand write another perfect signature along the line despite her hand cramping. He paused, taking the paper and spinning it around confused.

"Natasha Romanoff?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"My new name," She said, her voice calm. She refused to let on how heavy and meaningful this was going to be for them both, especially for her, but Agent Barton picked up on it all the same, "Natalia Romanova died when she hit that stage floor. I am Natasha Romanoff, a person cleaning up Natalia's mess."

"Natasha," He repeated, smiling. Then he held his hand out to her and said, "Well, Natasha Romanoff, it is an honor to meet you. Clint Barton at your service."

She stared at his hand for a moment before clasping it firmly in her smaller one, shaking it.

* * *

 **Natasha centric Chapter. And my longest yet! For those of you unfamiliar with this song, it's the one they play with commercials for that movie The 5th Wave. I really think it fits Natasha, the whole struggle. She's had a shitty life.**

 **The fight between her and Yelena, I know it's one sided. I know realistically it wasn't that one sided... I tried to make it fair. I sort of feel bad for Yelena and all the other girls who died in the Red Room. None of them deserved that type of life.**

 **But I like my interpretation on how Natasha and Clint met, how he didn't kill her. It's different than from what I've seen or read.**

 **Also, DeadPool movie. It's rated R, like I just saw it in the commercial. It's like the first Marvel Movie that isn't PG-13. I can really only imagine what sort of intense stuff is going to happen.**

 **Reviews:**

 **RussianAssassin- Bucky or BuckyBear? I mean, a BuckyBear themed one shot would be cute, with like a little Steve Rogers. Or the child of Steve. All the adventures they would go on! It be like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin.**

 **independentalto- The love potion recipe unfortunately has been confiscated by Coulson. Too dangerous. Could be made a biological weapon. That's what Coulson told me. But I will try to get it for you, Callie, and Nicky. As for the revenge, your guess is as good as mine, Natasha wouldn't tell me what she did.**


	11. Jar of Hearts

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Jar of Hearts- By Christina Perri**

 **Warning: AU.**

* * *

 _ **I know I can't take one more step towards you**_

 _ **'Cause all that's waiting is regret**_

 _ **Don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore**_

 _ **You lost the love I loved the most**_

Strong arms wrapped protectively around her small waist, pulling her into a comforting embrace. She turned into the embrace of her boyfriend, arms wrapping around her love's strong neck as she buried her face into his chest. They sat curled up on the couch in his living room, the girl in his arms drawing strength from him.

"He's not going to touch you," Steve whispered, trying to comfort Skye as the love of his life rested against him with her eyes closed. Her breathing was carefully measured, her body slightly relaxing underneath his touch.

Skye merely hid her face further against his chest, trying to organize the scrambled, hysteric thoughts rampaging through her head. With each slow intake of air, her thoughts became a little clearer and a little more organized. It helped that the familiar scent that she defined as Steve washed over her like a calming wave, the fresh scent cooling mint. It wasn't sharp and invigorating, it was smooth and soothing.

Her thoughts began to line up, to take order as Steve rubbed little spirals along her spine. It was Grant Ward, the son of a bitch reaching out for her again.

Her ex-boyfriend, the man who she thought was her guardian angel but nearly destroyed her life. Skye had been so young and foolish, she was only fifteen and considered herself a nobody in the universe that was high school. But then Grant started to pay attention to her, started to look at her with a gaze she'd never seen anyone else hold. He was a line backer for their football team, everyone knew his name and knew that to mess with him was the high school version of a death sentence. Skye couldn't help but feel wonder struck when he had chosen to ask her out because in her mind he had the entire squad of cheerleaders to choose from instead. But she hadn't fully realized the trouble she was getting into before it was too late. Their first summer together Skye saw a side of Grant Ward only she would ever truly witness. A controlling, violent, manipulative side that would make her feel worse about herself and trick her into believing lies. He controlled the way she dressed, the way she thought of herself, the things she wanted to do, what she liked and disliked, even forced her to use her hacking and computer skills to keep his grades up so he could stay on the team.

It wasn't until senior year did she finally manage to get away from the monster she had called her boyfriend. She managed to escape from Massachusetts, she got an amazing opportunity to go to school in New York and she took it. Maybe it was cowardly to use college to run away from her problems but it was the only solution that she felt truly comfortable using. She felt safer that way. But Grant didn't want her to go to college, he didn't want her to go away to Pace University, enrolled in the Seidenburg School of Computer Science & Information Systems. He wanted her to stay home, to go to a community college and stay with him. She knew he didn't want her to go away, he'd been against her applying anywhere out of state. So she didn't tell him about Pace, she didn't tell him anything about it. The day after graduation she took a train to New York, she told the nuns that if Grant came looking for her they didn't know where she was.

Skye took every precaution she could think of. She changed her phone number, got a job for the summer in the city and slept in homeless shelters so she had more than enough money to survive college life. She had been 18 when she escaped, and six years later he was coming back to haunt her.

"How'd he get my number Steve?" She whispered scared, "He shouldn't know I'm in New York. How'd he find me?"

She had gotten a call from an unrecognizable number and as always Skye refused to pick up her cell unless she knew who it was. If it was important someone would leave a message. He left a message. He heard her voice mail and left her a message. He wanted her back. He was going to bring her back home. And god it scared her.

"I don't know," Steve murmured, trying to console his frantic and terrified girlfriend. But he was just as scared and worried for her, "But I promise, if he tries to touch you, Bucky and I will kick his ass."

"I love you," She choked out, trying to pull herself together but a few tears were pricking around the edge of her eyes. Steve just pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

 _ **I learned to live half alive**_

 _ **And now you want me one more time**_

 _"Skye, I know you're there baby. Baby call me back I missed you, it's been a really long time since I saw you babe. Call me back."_

 _"Come on babe, you can't ignore me forever. You have to call me back eventually. You know you miss me."_

 _"Skye, I'm losing my patience. If you don't start picking up you're going to regret it."_

Skye whimpered as the phone rang, the familiar line of numbers appearing against the black background. She drew her knees to her chest, waiting for the phone's vibrating to seize and for another voice message to be left by the psychopath. She only tore her gaze away when she heard the familiar pattering of footsteps.

"Is that little bitch still trying to call you?" Skye merely nodded as she took the dark red mug from Natasha.

At the beginning of Skye's sophomore year, her original roommate had gotten a town house with some friends and almost left the girl with her own room. But then Natasha came in, the red head a refreshing change of pace for the girl who was just getting her life back together. Natasha was actually the one to introduce Skye to Steve, who she had known ever since the eighth grade. The red head was like an older, protective sister to Skye.

"He won't stop," Skye whispered as she took a sip of coffee. The hot liquid scalded her throat but was nonetheless an instant comfort for her in the situation.

Natasha scowled deeply, seeing the lively Skye closing off from everything and taking on this burden. The red head sighed softly through her nose and pulled the girl into an embrace, running her fingers through the girls short hair. Skye had spent so much time being told what to think and what to like, being controlled that Natasha had to remind her that her opinions matter. It was almost like she had been nursing a baby bird back to health, preparing it to embrace the world with confidence and independence. Skye had come so far since then, from being this quiet and secretive roommate to a lively, expressive young woman, and this bastard was destroying it. Natasha wanted to kill Grant Ward as revenge for the pain he put her through.

"He's not going to touch you, you know I would never let that happen."

"You and Steve," Skye murmured softly, looking into the green eyes of her friend. She randomly reminded herself that Steve was with Clint, Natasha's friend and roommate, and Sam at a baseball game. Natasha had come over to hang out with Skye and, although they didn't verbally say it, protect her incase something bad happened.

"Because we love you," Natasha reminded, reaching out to take another sip of her coffee, gulping it down a bit.

Skye stared up at Natasha, about to ask the girl how her date two nights ago had went. Skye wasn't quite sure what to make about Natasha's love life, and always took careful measures when addressing it. Natasha was living in a two bedroom apartment with Clint, a rather good friend of hers, and Barbara "Bobbi" Morse, Clint's girlfriend of three years. But the problem was, Natasha had feelings for Clint. The key word is had, but Natasha was an amazing liar and no one knew for certain if she had gotten over him or not. Natasha was very supportive of the relationship though, and had tried to find someone to love in the same way Skye loved Steve. Skye was about to ask, curious if Natasha had found her other half, but the phone rang again and shocked her out of her thoughts.

A shriek erupted from her, a cry of frustration and emotional distress, and Natasha pulled her friend close. The red head rubbed her back, trying to sooth Skye and calm her down. Skye cried a bit against her friend, whimpering as the vibrations rung through the room and reminded her of the horrific man trying to steal her back like she was property.

"You're stronger than this," Skye whispered to herself, clinging to Natasha for strength. She didn't look back at her phone as it continued to vibrate, "You are stronger than this."

 _ **And who do you think you are?**_

 _ **Runnin' 'round leaving scars**_

 _ **Collecting your jar of hearts**_

 _ **And tearing love apart**_

 _ **You're gonna catch a cold**_

 _ **From the ice inside your soul**_

 _ **So don't come back for me**_

 _ **Who do you think you are?**_

"What a bastard!"

Under any normal circumstances, Steve would try very hard to reinforce Tony on using less vulgar language. However, given that his girlfriend was in possible danger from her abusive and angry ex, Steve made the exception just this once.

All around them, the customers cheered excitedly as they watched the bar televisions with rapt attention. But Steve wasn't really concerned about the game, he was more worried about Skye. He was worried she would need him. He was worried this was a bad idea.

"Honestly I couldn't agree more," Steve grumbled as he sipped patiently from his beer, nursing the drink.

"You guys should really get the cops involved," From Steve's left, Sam joined in the conversation and forgot about the juicy burger sitting in front of him. He stared at Steve rather serious, "If he's harassing Skye then maybe you should get some sort of restraining order on him. Anything to keep him from bothering you both."

Clint scoffed, reaching out to steal some of Sam's curly fries, "Yeah, that'll keep him away," Steve scowled at his heavy use of sarcasm, "It's not like a piece of paper has any force behind it. And if it does keep him away it'll only be until the damn thing expires."

Sam scowled, smacking at Clint's hands when he noticed the other's thievery. But Clint merely smirked and happily ate up the stolen food. He ignored the glare he was receiving and continued to look at Steve, "The bastard isn't gonna be stopped that easily."

"What are you suggesting he do Clint? Kill him?"

"Well," At Steve's horrified expression Clint quickly explained, "In a means of self defense! Usually in those cases it's understandable. I'm not saying do it but if it actually does come down to it where you gotta hurt the guy self defense and Skye's defense will look good in front of a court room."

"Plus," Tony interjected, "I can easily get you a top notch lawyer."

Steve stared blankly at all his friends, unable to fully believe that were having this kind of conversation. He couldn't believe that they were discussing the probability of killing Grant and how it could best be justified. Even as the entire bar erupted again, roaring like lions, he sat frozen. Tony seemed more fixed on the tv at the moment, not aware of Steve's perplexed and slightly horrified state of being. He was far more interested in the game, a game he may or may not have made a bet in.

"Calm down Steve."

The blonde turned to look at Clint, who was staring at him with a dead serious expression, "That isn't going to happen. Because that little bitch is gonna need to go through you and Natasha and me. He isn't going to touch her ok?"

Steve dumbly nodded, feeling a bit numb. And it wasn't from the alcohol. The entire situation was scaring Steve, making him constantly worry for his girlfriends safety. Usually he was never so protective. Steve had full faith in her, he knew she could take care of herself and was a strong independent girl. He loved her too much to treat her like she couldn't do anything without him. He was scared what would happen if Grant tried to take her back. Scared that he would hurt Skye and, no matter how much she resisted, she wouldn't be able to completely protect herself.

Clint sighed, staring at Steve in complete understanding. He knew how worried Steve was for Skye, for her safety. He felt the same thing whenever Natasha failed to show up at the apartment at night from whatever date or late night adventure she disappeared on. There was always that scary sensation of something horrible happening, like Natasha was somewhere she didn't want to be or deserved to be. And sometimes those feelings had a way of making the other guys suspicious that Clint was feeling something other than normal protective over Natasha.

"He isn't going to hurt her Steve," Clint stressed stubbornly. It snapped the other man out of his thoughts and he nodded silently.

* * *

The sidewalks weren't as crowded as they usually were, barren in spots where they never were in the morning. There weren't that many people wandering the streets at this hour, but not all of them were the stereotypical shady characters people imagine to be traversing under the night sky.

Grant Ward reached back and pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head, glancing around at the people who were seemingly walking aimlessly. He sported some sexy stubble along his jaw, the major difference between him and his younger, high school self. He had cut his hair shorter, and looked relaxed. But that was just a front, a layer to hide his true purpose in being New York. He wanted to see Skye again and bring her back home.

And he didn't plan to leave until he did.

 _ **I hear you're asking all around**_

 _ **If I am anywhere to be found**_

 _ **But I have grown too strong**_

 _ **To ever fall back in your arms**_

Skye made her way down to the lobby, her dark hair all mussed up on top from her previous nights sleep. A few stray strands stood completely apart from the majority of her hair, giving her a slight frizzy look. She was wearing one of Steve dark grey Dodger t-shirts and some green plaided flannel pants. On her feet were her fuzzy baby blue slippers and around her body, drawn further around her to keep her warm, was her yellow bathrobe with little lollipops on them. With a smile to the man at the front desk, Skye made her way over to the postal boxes and scanned for their cubby hole. As she did so, the pounding ruckus of a down pour caught her attention and drew her to look out the windows.

Her heart leapt right up into her throat as she spied him, crossing the length of the window towards the door. He was masked beneath a dark green rain slicked and red umbrella, but she could see it was him. She knew him when she saw him, no matter the angle or attire he was wearing.

She turned, darting right behind the desk and shoving the man, Francis, slightly aside as she crawled beneath the little indent of his desk area where his feet went under. She said very quietly, knowing her time was limited, "Francis, no matter what, I do not live here."

"Pardon?" Francis stared down at Skye confused eyebrow raised at her as if she lost her marbles. And perhaps she had but this was extremely important and she couldn't let Ward find her. She couldn't let him know she lived here, couldn't have him find her.

"Please Francis, I'll explain later. But I do not live here."

He would have demanded a further explanation, she saw it in his eyes, but then the little jingling bell went off over the door to signal someone had come in and he turned his attention towards the door. Skye scooted further beneath the desk, ignoring the ache in her knees and back as she heard Grant's footsteps stop beside her. Only a sleet of wood separated them. She chewed on her lip and forced herself to not make a single noise.

"Can I help you sir?" Francis spoke, staring at the man in front of him with a rather normal expression. He leaned back in his seat.

"I'm looking for a Skye Johnson."

Skye's heart thumped loudly in her chest, beating hard and fast. Her stomach twisted with a terrible knot and her eyes started to burn with tears. She resisted any whimper that might burst from her vocal chords and listened intently to Francis as he answered. Her heart thumped in her chest and she felt goosebumps appear along her arms.

"I'm sorry sir but I don't believe we have an occupant here with that name."

Skye closed her eyes, silently thanking Francis for doing as she asked. She knew what she told herself, that she was stronger than this, but fear was a crippling thing. Skye wasn't so much afraid for herself if Grant knew where she lived, although it was a scary thought, but she didn't want him to know where she and Steve lived. She couldn't let him hurt Steve, Steve didn't deserve that. Neither of them did honestly. But Skye, while she didn't know what Grant would do to her, knew that he would severely hurt if not kill Steve.

"Skye Johnson, I'm sure if you just look..."

"I apologize sir but I know everyone who lives in this building and I can assure you that this Skye Johnson is not one of them. I have a Joseph Johnson in 4D."

"Why don't you just check," Skye heard the very faint ruffle of papers and could only suspect what Grant was doing. She kept her eyes closed for a moment and listened with bated breath.

Francis took the five dollar bill and slipped it into his inner breast coat pocket before answering Grant, "There is no Skye Johnson here sir, if there is anyone else you wish to see I can help you with but there is no one, man or woman, named Skye Johnson here. I apologize, but you may simply be at the wrong apartment complex."

The woman beneath the desk heard an unsatisfied grunt and footsteps retreating from the desk. Very silently, Skye waited until she heard the little bell above the door jingle and even then refused to move. Francis glanced down very quietly at Skye and held his hand out for her, "He's gone Miss Johnson."

"Thank you," Skye whispered as she crawled out from behind the desk and moved to stand, "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Anytime Miss Johnson," To her surprise, Francis didn't even ask why she hid beneath his desk. Honestly, Francis had found himself loathing Ward the more and more he pressed for his answer. Francis had found Grant somewhat dark and suspicious, unnerving. He wouldn't let that man know if Skye was here or not because if the nice young lady who always asked him how his day was when she came in didn't want Ward here, than he wouldn't let the bastard in.

With a quiet little smile, eyes shining in gratitude, she turned to go collect her mail like she intended to do.

* * *

The welcoming scent of delicious, blueberry waffles greeted Skye as she entered the apartment again, sorting the mail as she went. Steve's back was to her, focused on watching the waffle iron. Skye heard him humming just slightly, and couldn't help but smile.

"Hey baby," Skye set the mail down on the counter and went to stand behind him, arms wrapping around his torso. She had to get on the tip of her toes to peak over his shoulders and smiled as she saw the delicious waffles before them. Crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside.

Steve smiled as he felt his beloved girlfriend leaning into him and said, "Breakfast is ready."

Skye hummed in acknowledgement, rubbing her hands over his shoulders in a soothing fashion. Steve turned his head slightly to get a better look at Skye and saw that she was staring downward at the small of his back and not upwards to his face. He could see her eyes cloudy in thought and turned the waffle iron off.

Skye reached around him to take the plates, bringing them over to their small little kitchen table. She placed them down, glancing up to see him bringing over the butter and maple syrup. She smiled very quietly when the metallic glint of utensils caught her eyes. He always knew what they needed before she did. Silently, they sat together at the table and started to quietly cut into their breakfast. Steve glanced up at Skye, seeing her eyes still clouded over in thought and wondered if he should bring it up. He wanted to hope that she was ok.

"Grant came around while I was getting the mail," She spoke without emotion, but from the way her shoulders were shaking he knew she was scared. He opened his mouth to ask a question but she was continuing, "I hid under Francis's desk and he told him I don't live here. But it seems a matter of time before Francis can't say no."

"He's not going to hurt you. I'll talk to building security and everyone," Steve reassured her, trying to remain calm as well. He couldn't bare to think of what might happen to Skye if this guy got his hands on her again.

Skye nods, eyes on her food very silently. She was thinking deeply to herself before she spoke again, "Let's just enjoy breakfast please."

"Of course," Steve agreed hastily, "Of course."

 _ **And I've learned to live half alive**_

 _ **And now you want me one more time**_

The apartment complex was extremely silent, no nosey neighbors around to see him as he wandered silently through the hallways. It had taken some bribing, a nice crisp $20 bill, but Grant finally got the room number. He smirked as he thought back to the foolish little brat that was likely going to lose his job should they find out about it. But he couldn't bring himself to care. All he cared about was Skye.

He had to admit, the building was very nice. It be a nice place to raise a family, to have a little kid or two roaming around that wanted to be just like them. What he wouldn't do to have a child that looked just like him and Skye, looking up to him like he was the king of the world. He wondered if Skye felt the same way about having children, wondered if she wanted to start her own family. They would need to discuss this.

Grant watched the room numbers, watching as they started to get closer and closer to the room he was looking for. He was silent, watching as the numbers got higher and higher and then smirked, stopping in front of the door. He tested the doorknob very cautiously, listening intently for any activity inside and smiled when he heard some shuffling from inside. They were light footsteps by the sound of it and knocked on the doorknob.

He smiled as he heard the footsteps coming towards the door, and waited at the ready. But as they got closer he realized that they were heavier than he initially believed and stood with his fists coiled.

As the door started to open, Grant gripped the door knob and pulled it the rest of the way. This threw the tall, blonde man off guard as he stared at Grant in confusion. Anger, as well as not jealousy, rose in Grant as he shoved the man back through the doorway and into the apartment, shutting the door closed behind him. This bastard was sleeping with his girl! This bastard was sleeping with _his_ girl.

"Whoa!" The blonde started but Grant threw his fist right into the guy's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

Grant swung another fist at him again, watching at the blonde stumble some more. He caught this guy completely off guard and quickly began to wrap his arm across the idiots neck. The man struggled against him, squirming as he tried to get a flow of oxygen in through his lungs and out. But Grant tightened his hold and could see the mans face going red.

He felt Steve start to slump against him, going limp. When the man's blue eyes finally closed Grant waited for a few seconds before setting the man down and waited. Seeing he was unconscious, still breathing but knocked out, he quickly went to work restraining the man so when he did wake up no one else would intervene.

 _ **And who do you think you are?**_

 _ **Runnin' 'round leaving scars**_

 _ **Collecting your jar of hearts**_

 _ **And tearing love apart**_

 _ **You're gonna catch a cold**_

 _ **From the ice inside your soul**_

 _ **So don't come back for me**_

 _ **Who do you think you are?**_

"Steve," Skye greeted as she entered, the dork closing behind her. She frowns seeing the entire apartment dark, with the lights off and the window blinds shut tight. She frowns, feeling her heart beat start to accelerate. Immediately, she starts to search for the light switch, "Steve?"

Just as she finds it, she feels a hand right over hers and screams as the lights flicker on. She starts to jerk her hand out from beneath Grant's fingers before the closed around her wrist. Her heart started to pick up the pace, her breathing hitching as she dropped the bag that was over her shoulder.

"Hey baby," Grant whispered, "I've been looking for you."

"Get the hell away from me!" Skye shouted, "Get out! Get out get out get out!"

"Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?"

"You aren't my boyfriend!" As those words left her mouth, she started to worry about Steve. Steve had the day off today and was, to her knowledge, home all day. Where was he right now? What did Grant do to Steve? Where was he? What happened? "What did you do to Steve?"

"Is that his name?" Grant asked with mock curiosity, "He didn't say anything as I held him in a choke hold."

"WHERE IS HE?"

Suddenly, Grant's easy going expression darkened and he stepped closer to Skye. An air of anger and jealousy radiated off of him and made Skye very hesitant and worried, moving backwards away from him, "Forget about him. He's gone, you won't see him again baby. You're mine! You are my girl and that blonde hair Boy Scout isn't going to keep you from me. You are mine! You are my girl!"

"No I'm not!" Skye felt her body shake, "You don't own me! You don't own me at all! I love Steve and nothing is ever going to-"

A sharp crack echoed in the air as Grant stood, having slapped Skye in the face for saying such words. Skye fell backwards, disoriented from the fall and pain blooming from her cheek. It was bright red and stinging from the impact.

Meanwhile, trapped in the bathroom, Steve struggled with duct tape bounding his mouth shut, his wrists together, and his ankles together. He was restraint hog tie style, making it impossible to sit up and get off of his side. He could hear Skye's voice and Grant's through the closed bathroom door and struggled to move. He tugged at the duct tape, not caring if nothing had changed from four or something hours ago when he woke up. Skye was in trouble, she needed his help. He had to get free and help her before Grant did something he'd regret.

 _ **And it took so long just to feel alright**_

 _ **Remember how to put back the light in my eyes**_

 _ **I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed**_

 _ **'Cause you broke all your promises**_

 _ **And now you're back**_

 _ **You don't get to get me back**_

Skye stared upwards at Grant with a mixture of fear and apprehension, moving farther back from him. It wasn't until she brushed the wall did she stop, aware that she was crawling into a corner and would trap herself. Her heart was beating faster and faster, it felt like she couldn't breath the way it was coming in and out, shorter and faster.

"Skye baby," He was speaking softly to her again, "Skye baby we're going to go home ok? We're gonna go home and be happy."

"Get away from me!" She hissed, trying to gain control of herself. But it glittered away as her heart started to beat painfully faster and she looked very close to hyperventilating. With each step forward it merely got worse, and Skye was scared. What if he hurt Steve? What if Steve was dead?

"Skye," His voice got stern, "Skye you are coming home with me."

"No!" Skye argued, voice wobbling just a tad, "This is my home now!"

Skye closed her eyes and brought her arms up quickly to protect herself before he had the chance to hit her again. But then, when no hit came, she opened her eyes and her guard started to drop in confusion. Seeing this, Grant swatted her arms aside and pulled her face closer to his and brought his lips down on hers.

* * *

 _"Whoa!" Skye gripped Grant tightly by the arm as she started to lose her balance, her legs sliding out in opposite directions beneath her. The fifteen year old held on to him and struggled to regain her balance, but then they both fell on to the ice, the cold seeping in through their thick layers._

 _"Oh god I'm so sorry," Skye profusely apologized, struggling to get to her feet but falling on her knees and butt constantly. Her face turned crimson. But Grant was smiling as he easily climbed to his feet, not at all troubled by the sudden fall. He merely reached down and took her hand to help her._

 _"I got you," He reassured, steadying her as children and adults ice skated around them. He held her up firmly and smiled at her, taking her hand and guiding her forward along the ice. Skye tried to glide gracefully but she felt extremely self conscious and was afraid of falling forward into the ice surface again. Her hand squeezed his tightly as she felt her body buckle and lose it's balance._

 _"I got you," Grant promises, "I'm not gonna let you get hurt. I promise you that you are safe with me."_

 _Skye smiled and relaxed a bit, trusting him to hold her up. He slowly guided her so that her back was to everyone else and she was looking at him. One hand confined to hold her up as the other cupped her face, bringing her closer until their lips pressed together._

* * *

Skye shoved Grant back the moment he tried to kiss her, slapping him. Then she started to shake out her hand because her palm was stinging from the impact of it and it hurt. Is this how his hand felt when he hit her? If it hurt this badly why did he always hit her? Was it worth the pain he inflicted on her?

Grant stared at her, shocked by the stinging across his face. His shock quickly turned to anger though as he grabbed her by her hair and forced her up to her feet. She screamed out in pain and started to hit him wildly with her fists, trying to get him to let go. He just held her tightly, ignoring her attacks. He merely tightened his grip on her hair and made it a bit worse.

"What happened to not letting me get hurt?" Skye accused in pain, resorted to just using her words and shouting. She hurting herself more than she was hurting him with her little fists, "I left you because you broke that promise! Good boyfriends don't hit their girlfriends. Good boyfriends don't control and manipulate and make them feel like shit!"

He slammed her into the wall angrily, but Skye just continued, "I hate you! I hate you because you hurt me and lie to me and use me! You're an awful person! But I love Steve! And you will never change that! Do you know why? Because Steve would never hurt me!"

Grant slammed her into the wall again angrily, "Forget about him!" He shouted, "Forget about him Skye, you're my girl! You're my girl and no one is going to change that!"

"No I'm not!"

Skye's could be heard from the bathroom, where Steve continued to struggle in the duct tape. He could hear Skye and Grant yelling at each other and his heart started to beat painfully in his chest as he thought of all the bad things that could happen. Suddenly, his hands went flying backwards and smacking him in the forehead as his legs and arms came apart. He groaned beneath the duct tape gag and started to try and remove it from his lips. It took a few tries, given that he couldn't swivel his wrists very well while they were stuck together but managed. He groaned and started to try and sit up as best as possible. And then he heard Skye scream, a blood curdling sound that had him screaming her name.

"SKYE!" Steve struggled with his duct tape restraint.

He heard footsteps and shouting, but the actual words surrounding the noise was lost to him. Steve suddenly heard something shatter and held his breath, thinking one bad scenario after another. He struggled furiously as the door creaked open.

 _ **And who do you think you are?**_

 _ **Runnin' 'round leaving scars**_

 _ **Collecting your jar of hearts**_

 _ **And tearing love apart**_

 _ **You're gonna catch a cold**_

 _ **From the ice inside your soul**_

 _ **So don't come back for me**_

 _ **Don't come back at all**_

Skye shoved the bathroom door open and knelt down in front of Steve, tearing at the duct tape around the man's ankles. She was breathing fast and shallow, looking at him in a mixture of fear and relief. She was so happy to see he was here, safe. And it took Steve too realize that instead of the psychopath who locked him in here it was his girlfriend trying to to free him.

"Skye!" He tugged at the tape around his wrists as she started to rip the duct tape, but with extremely small progress. He saw where Grant hit her, the skin red and starting to faintly bruise. Something hot and hard settled in his gut.

He stared at the doorway, waiting and watching for the jackass to appear and frowns, "Skye? What was that shattering sound?"

"I threw a vase at his head," She admitted softly, "It was that really nice one Bobbi got when she and Clint went to Iowa for Easter."

For a brief moment, he gazed at her with tender eyes. She sounded so guilty about destroying the present from their friends and had to resist getting them both distracted by insisting that it was ok. He didn't know how long it would be until Grant re awoken and he didn't want the bastard taking advantage of them if they were both distracted. As Skye continued to tear at the tape around his legs, Steve tried to pull his ankles apart and assist his girlfriend. If only they had a pair of scissors or a sharp blade.

"Skye!"

The woman in question tensed against Steve and bit down on her lip in fear. They both heard the slightest creak in the floorboards as someone rose to their feet and Steve struggled to keep himself decently composed as Skye struggled to free her boyfriend faster. But it didn't take very long until Steve saw the man's frame in the bathroom threshold. Steve took Skye by the wrists very gently and tried to pull her closer to him in warning, but Grant had already snatched her by her hair and was yanking her backwards across the tile floor.

Skye stared upwards at the furious man, thinking he was just about to murder her. She did the only thing she could think of and screamed, raising her hands to protect herself for whatever blow he decided to deal. The sound of Skye screaming set something off in Steve and he gave one big tug at the duct tape around his legs, freeing his ankles. He hopped onto the heels of his feet and charged like a bull.

The two men spilled from the doorway, one falling flat on his back and the other on his side. Steve quickly tried to scramble to his feet, staring at Grant as he blinked slightly dazed. But the man quickly gained his senses and rose from the floor, kicking Steve in the lower abdomen before he could fully get up. Steve groaned, his breath hitching as another sharp kick caught him in the ribs.

Skye rolled over and scampered to her feet, watching as her ex continued to kick at her boyfriend. She launched herself quickly onto Grant's back and started to pull at his hair and keep him distracted. Her fingers dug painfully into his skin and she tried to use her weight to throw him backwards.

"Get off me!" Grant reached back to grab at Skye, trying to throw her off. But Skye dug her heels sharply below his ribs and held on like he was a tree and she was a monkey.

"GET OFF ME BITCH!"

Skye screamed as his hands gripped her tightly and she was hurled right over his head into the floor. She gasped, more in shock than in pain at the turn of events. Her breathing came out roughly for a moment, uneven as she stared up at him. She moved backwards, finding herself wanting to hold on protectively to Steve but Grant pressed his foot down on her left ankle. He pressed down very hard on it, preventing her from going very far.

Skye took a shaky breath as she stared at him, jumping when the front door suddenly slammed into the wall. Voices barked from behind her, but Skye wasn't paying attention to them as Grant's eyes flitted to the people entering the apartment in iconic blue uniforms. Skye didn't look back at the police officers, knowing that if she did it could do more harm being distracted. Especially if Grant tried to do anything really desperate. She watched as his hands rose up behind his head and an officer yanked him off of her ankle.

The moment she was free, Skye turned and practically crawled to Steve. She hugged him tightly watching as another officer helped free her boyfriends wrists from the duct tape and listen to him explain what happened. Skye was shaking as he wrapped an arm around her and asked how the cops knew they were in trouble. The woman almost cried in relief when she was told one of their neighbors heard her screaming and odd ruckus like noise.

"Please," Skye pleaded as she rested her head in the crook of Steve's neck, "Please take him far away from me! I never wanna see that ass again!"

 _ **And who do you think you are?**_

 _ **Runnin' 'round leaving scars**_

 _ **Collecting your jar of hearts**_

 _ **Tearing love apart**_

 _ **You're gonna catch a cold**_

 _ **From the ice inside your soul**_

 _ **Don't come back for me**_

 _ **Don't come back at all**_

Curled up on her side in bed, Skye listened very quietly to the sound of Steve's deep breathing. She glanced now and then at the clock, unable to believe that is was just yesterday, nearly two months from the attack, that Grant was tried as guilty and locked up in jail. Between jail and the serious restraining order against him, the authorities had guaranteed to them that the bastard was never going to get near them again. And if he did, he'd be right back where he started.

Steve murmured something unintelligible, but Skye couldn't help but smile very quietly at him and nestle further into him. It didn't feel like she could get close enough to him, that at times like this she just needed him to hold her to his heart. But she knew that wasn't necessary, she knew she was safe and that he was safe and no one was coming to hurt them anymore.

At least, for now. But she could worry more about that in the next couple of years.

"Skye," Steve slurred, "Go back to sleep."

"I am," Skye whispered, "I am. You don't worry."

Skye closed her eyes and slowly fell back asleep, the monsters from her past no longer taunting her.

 ** _Who do you think you are?_**

 ** _Who do you think you are?_**

 ** _Who do you think you are?_**

* * *

 **Ok, I swear to god I may make a one shot based on a A Thousand Years but I was listening to it and trying to plan and the most tragic, heartbreaking BlackHawk/ClintTasha fanfic came to me and I was literally ready to bawl. So... Christina Perri's songs are really good for emotional fanfics.**

 **Finished Chapter :D Oh what to do next... A T. Swift song? A Disney song? Another Christina Perri song (don't recommend honestly. Don't wanna cry.)? Is there any song I said I wanted to do but haven't yet. Any suggestions?**


	12. Winnie the Pooh

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Winnie the Pooh- By Disney's Winnie the Pooh**

 **Warning: AUish(?)**

* * *

 ** _Deep in the 100 acre wood_**

 ** _Where Christopher Robin plays_**

 ** _You'll find the enchanted neighborhood_**

 ** _Of Christopher's childhood days_**

"Come on Bucky we need to jump!"

The soft brown bear was hugged extremely close to the young four year's old chest, who gazed downward from his perch on the floor with a wide eyed expression. To the normal observer, young Steve was perfectly balanced along the arm of the living room couch. He was in his footy pajamas, his precious best friend tucked safely in his arms as he stood poised to jump over on his dad's empty recliner. The tan fabric of the furniture was, however, a rocky cliffside in the child's eyes and the empty space between the couch and chair was a bottomless canyon. The dark grey carpet didn't exist anymore for the time being.

"Don't worry Bucky," The child said to his friend, answering the toy as if it spoke to him, "I'll be right behind you!"

With that said, Steve held his friend out and watched as he flew over the gaping canyon and landed safely on the other side. The moment Bucky stopped, uninjured, Steve cheered for him. But then the child stopped, looking intently at the toy as it called to him and hurry. Steve nodded and took a deep breath of air. He was crouched and poised at the ready, leaping with all his might. At first he landed on the chair but then it began to walk and tip forward, causing the child to fall backwards. With a scream, Steve gripped the arm of the chair with one hand and Bucky in the other, stuck in a position where he was ready to fall off at any minute.

"Bucky!" In Steve's mind, the bear was watching him with a panicky expression and gripping his little hand with two paws. The skinny little boy gulped, "Bucky help me!"

Steve slowly lurched forward, scrabbling to get fully onto the cushion of the chair. Bucky pulled him further up and the moment Steve was settled in the leather recliner he held the stuffed bear in his arms. He started to breath deeply, heart racing from the near fall.

"Yeah," Steve murmured softly as he cradled his best friend, "I know should have been more careful. There's no need to call me punk!"

Steve lifted the bear up in his arms, looking at it right in it's eyes. His bottom lip stuck out just slightly as it always did when the bear "scolded" him for something on one of their adventures. The two continued their staring contest long until the child's mother entered the room.

"Steve," She was soft spoken, her voice gentle and full of motherly love. She went over to the child to scoop him up in her arms, "Steve, it's times for bed darling."

"Aw..." Steve turned his blue eyes on her, bringing Bucky close to his chest again and acted as though the toy was whispering in his ear. His face turned a little serious and thoughtful as he spoke, "Bucky says he's not tired though!"

"Tell Bucky that you need to go to bed, you have pre-school in the morning and we can't have you sleeping in late or being cranky."

"It was one time!" Steve cried out, defending himself, "And I couldn't sleep because the police sirens.."

Steve's mother smiled though as she lifted him up into her arms and hugged him close. Bucky got squished between them as his legs wrapped securely around her waist and a hand took hold of her shoulder. One hand slid underneath him to support his weight as the other rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"I know," She said softly, "They were right underneath your window and they wouldn't go away. Come on darling, it's bed time. Your adventures can continue tomorrow. Isn't that right Bucky?"

Steve watched as his mother made his best friend nod, smiling fondly at her for playing along. Then he gave out one giant yawn and snuggled in closer to her, confused as to where his exhaustion came from.

"Why am I so tired?" He yawned.

"I don't know, maybe it came from jumping over cliffs."

"Maybe," Steve yawned in agreement, eyes starting to close. He heard his bedroom door open but by the time they entered, he had closed his eyes. He felt the bed dip beneath him as his mother laid him down and drew the big cozy comforter blanket over his tiny little body, "That explains why Bucky's so tired too though."

Steve faintly heard his mother him, felt her fingers run through his wispy blonde hair for a moment before she kissed him goodnight. Steve smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around Bucky, snuggling into the bed. The little nightlight in the corner glowed, allowing enough light for Bucky Bear to see in the dark room and protect Steve. Even if the bear was drop dead tired.

 _ **A donkey named Eeyore is his friend**_

 _ **And Kanga and little Roo**_

 _ **There's rabbit and piglet and there's owl**_

 _ **But most of all Winnie The Pooh**_

The one thing Steve hated the most about pre-school was that his teacher didn't allow Bucky to hitchhike in Steve's backpack. At first she had allowed the stuffed companion for the first few days of preschool because she wanted the transition to be as easy for the parents and kids as possible, but she also wanted Steve to socialize with the other kids. Steve was a good boy, he participated in all the activities and was nice to the other children. Steve was a good helper and always on his best behavior, and when he made a mistake or did something he knew he shouldn't have he always told the truth. Well, most of the time.

Sometimes Bucky managed to sneak into Steve's backpack unnoticed like a spy. Sometimes Bucky showed up in the middle of nap time but disappeared just before the end so none of the other kids knew. Bucky would wait in Steve's backpack and listen to everything going on, waiting for preschool to let out. It was lonely in the cubbies but Bucky waited because he loved Steve. He always looked forward to hearing the sound of Steve's footsteps coming his way.

Bucky Bear got excited as he heard the echoey pitter patter of feet, hearing them get louder and louder as they came towards him. The toy waited excitedly, expecting Steve's smiling face to be the first thing he saw. The soft sound of the backpack unzipping echoed quietly from within the bag but as it opened, the bear gasped in horror.

* * *

"'Tasha! 'Tasha 'Tasha 'Tasha!"

The small little red headed girl turned on her heels to look at her best friend, turning her gaze to the bandaged ridden hand tugging at her sleeve. She gave a small frown and stared at the dirty blonde boy who was watching her with wide big eyes. She immediately looked him over for any injuries, but his elbows weren't scraped and his nose wasn't bleeding.

"Wha'?" She spoke quietly, not wanting any of the other children to hear her speak. Unlike the other children, who spoke with clear cut American accents, she had a heavy Russian accent she picked up from her family and couldn't quite shake yet. It made her harder to understand and she would get too frustrated constantly repeating herself that she just didn't speak unless it was necessary. And if she did ever speak it was mostly to her best friend.

Clint pulled her to the edge of the playhouse, and together they stood over the slide. The boy was pointing down, at Johann Schmidt. For a moment the girl was confused why Clint was so concerned what Johann was doing. Neither of the children liked him, he acted so high and mighty because he was the third tallest in the preschool, and already knew how to count to a hundred. He was always bragging about how he could read books like _If You Give a Pig a Pancake_ and _The Giving Tree_. He was an utter control freak, and whenever things didn't go his way he would shriek like a banshee and throw the worse tantrums.

But then she saw what Clint was trying to show her. In that little tyrants hands was a stuffed bear, decked out in a blue uniform. She recognized the baby blue outfit, the bright red buttons and collar of the bear and that mask over the eyes. That was Bucky!

"He's got Bucky!" Natasha gasped, searching this way and that to try and catch a glimpse of Steve. She frowns, unable to see him around the other kids.

"What do we do?" Clint asked, eyes never leaving the preschool bully as he held the stolen bear, "We gotta rescue Bucky!"

"You go find Steve," Natasha instructed, "I got tha' grinch."

"Grinch?"

"Shut up!" Natasha muttered, knowing that if any of the other girls or boys heard her say a grown up swear word than she was gonna be in serious trouble. She had already been warned enough times about it before, she'll be smart to kick the habit before she gets a phone call home. She didn't need to be screamed at.

Without another word, Natasha slid right down the slide and broke off in a run towards Johann. Clint didn't waste any time whatsoever running to get Steve, spotting him almost immediately.

* * *

"Steve? Can you hand me that dump truck?"

"Sure," Steve rolled the toy over to the other child, smiling as he received a happy thank you and continued to play with the toy plane in his hands. His mind whirled in a million different directions, imagining a new adventure with Bucky on an airplane.

"Steve!" Clint came skidding to a stop behind the blonde, tripping and almost losing his balance. The blonde turned to look at the other four year old, confused. Usually, when Steve saw Clint the boy was always accompanied with Natasha and vice versa. But instead the boy, with fingers almost always plastered in bandaids, took Steve by the wrist and tried to pull him up.

"What's wrong?"

"Johann has Bucky!" Steve's stomach knotted up and his eyes stung from tears. He gave an involuntary whimper as Clint spoke, listening to him as he restrained his emotions, "'Tasha went to go try and-"

A cry broke out across the playground, a familiar high strung shriek reaching all of their ears. Both boys immediately cover their ears as they turned their gaze to the screaming brat. Johann sat amongst the wood chips, his face turning red to accompany his tantrum. There was a bruise starting to form along the bottom of his right cheek, and Clint immediately noticed that Natasha and Bucky were no where in sight.

The teacher immediately went to console Johann and diffuse the situation. Clint frowns, trying to take a guess at what had happened while his back was turned. Steve started to hiccup uncontrollably.

"W-where's B-Bucky?"

"'Tasha must have him," Clint whispered, "We ought to find her."

Steve nodded, looking around for the vibrant trademark red that was the girls hair. But he didn't see a single wisp of it. He started to panic, worried about his best friend. Was Bucky hurt? Was Bucky scared? Did he get really nasty bruises? He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Clint tugging on his wrist.

"Come on," Clint was dragging him towards the building, pushing the school door open before their teacher noticed. Steve glanced back and saw that she was still fussing over Johann, trying to calm him down. He followed after Clint as the wanna be archer led him to the cubby area.

The cubby area was a small little room right across the hall from their classroom, with wooden vertical shelves that had hooks for their bags and coats. There was one main aisle down the middle and had right of them. The cubbies lined the walls and tucked away behind a big, heavy coat was Natasha. The redhead was holding Bucky close to her chest, murmuring comforting words to the bear.

"'Tasha!" Clint came over and she poked her head out from behind the coat. She looked at them, eyes wide. Seeing Steve, she gave Bucky one more hug and held him out to Steve.

"Thank you," Steve took the bear in his arms and held him close, "Bucky says thank you as well."

Natasha nodded, "He was hurting Bucky. I got angry. And I didn't want the teacher to take him away either."

"Thank you!" Steve said again, frowning, "Will Bucky be safe though in my bag? Johann stole him once."

"You can hide him in my bag!" Clint smiled, "It's got snacks so he won't get hungry! He won't expect that. He'll expect 'Tasha to hide him in her bag."

"Thanks," Steve smiled, hugging Bucky close.

 _ **Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff**_

 _ **He's Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Willy, nilly, silly old bear**_

 _"He says 'Son can you play me a memory,_

 _I'm not really sure how it goes,_

 _But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete_

 _When I wore a younger man's clothes.'"_

Steve threw his head back against the leather seat, trying to let the sounds of Billy Joel drown out the sick feeling he felt in him tummy. He closed his eyes and held Bucky tightly, listening to one of the many songs his mom had on her special CD for the car that they could sing along to and enjoy. Usually, Steve didn't mind the slower song and listened quietly so his mom could fully enjoy it. But he wasn't feeling good. He felt yucky and he wanted to lay down and curl in a ball but you can't do that in a car because you need to stay sitting straight and buckled up.

"Mommy," His voice came out as a whine as he gazed out the window to look at the other cars driving beside them.

"Yes Steve?"

Steve looked down at Bucky and hugged the bear closer to his chest, resting his head against the cold glass of the window, "Can we pull over?"

"Why?"

"Bucky doesn't feel good."

His mother raised an eyebrow as she kept her eyes on the road, "Bucky doesn't feel good?"

"No ma'am!"

"Well, do you think he can wait another half hour, then we'll be able to pull over at a rest stop and get some fresh air," She answered, seeing a sign that was telling her just how far the next rest stop was.

"I don't know," Steve answered as he looked down at Bucky, looking the bear right in the eyes, "He'll try."

Steve focused on looking out the window, at all the other cars and tried to read the license plates. He didn't care about the number, just wanting to see what state they all came from. His mom told him that there were fifty states in America, and that New York was one of them. She also said that each state gave resident cars their own state personal license plate and Steve wanted to see them all. A road trip to New Jersey to see his aunt and cousins was the perfect opportunity to try seeing as many as possible.

 _"Sing us a song tonight_

 _Well, we're all in the mood for a melody_

 _And you've got us feeling all right."_

Steve wasn't feeling alright whatsoever. His stomach cramped up even more and his head started to ache. He wanted to cry, he wanted to cry because he felt awful and Bucky was doing everything he could to make Steve feel better. Steve felt like he was gonna throw up, he didn't know how he knew this but he could only describe the feeling he was suffering from as gagging.

"Mommy are we there yet!" He all but cried out, saying it as fast as possible.

"Not yet Steve, why?"

Steve didn't answer, he pressed Bucky extremely close to his chest and leaned forward in his car seat. He threw up, right onto the bottom of the car and cried hot tears as he did so. He didn't understand why he was feeling so sick and was scared that they'd have to go home now. He wanted to visit his cousins and introduce them to Bucky and play with them. But now, if he was sick they'd have to go home and then they'd all be sad and disappointed. His aunt, his cousins, his mommy, Bucky!

Steve cried as he stopped, it smelt so bad and he felt so awful. His mother glanced very slightly into the back of the car and stared at her pale boy. She smelt the bile aroma and kept her eyes on the road, turning the music down. Steve found himself very grateful, because the music didn't aggravate his headache anymore.

"We're almost there Steve baby. You and Bucky just try to hold on alright?"

Steve watched as his window opened a bit, letting in fresh air to help got rid of the scent and make Steve feel better.

* * *

Steve sat in the front driver seat, staring out the open car door at the cars in the parking lot. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders, Bucky, a water bottle, and a small box of saltines in his lap. His mother was crouched down on her knees on the asphalt, cleaning up the mess Steve had made. The small boy was extremely guilty and upset, wishing he hadn't been sick.

"I'm sorry Bucky," Steve whispered as he watched a man walk in and out of the gas station. The small child hugged his bear closer, "I didn't want to ruin our trip to New Jersey. I just-I got sick and I couldn't control it. Will you please forgive me?"

Bucky looked up at Steve, and the little boy sniffled quietly as he listened to his best friend. The little boy was shocked.

"You aren't mad?" Steve gasped, "Really?"

He hugged the bear tightly as he heard his mother walk around the car towards him, crouching down once again to look at him. She smiled, her own blonde hair tied back in a pony tail so it wasn't in her face. She brushed his hair from his face and said, "You're looking much better."

"I'm sorry I'm sick mommy, I don't wanna ruin the trip."

"You aren't sick baby," She says, "You just got car sick."

"What's that?"

"Car sick," She hummed, trying to think about how to best explain it, "Some people start to feel sick when they're in a car for a long amount of car. And we've been in the car for a long time. Longer than we've ever been. Constantly moving. It's ok Steve honey, you didn't mean to throw up."

"Are we still going to go to New Jersey?"

"Yea. But when you start to feel sick again you tell me ok?"

"Ok, I promise. And Bucky promises too."

"Good. Now," She ran her hand through his hair, "You wanna wait a few minutes or head back on the road."

Steve didn't say anything for a minute, listening to Bucky before he said, "Bucky says 'Let's burn rubber!'"

 _ **Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

"MOMMY!"

Steve came tearing into the room, his blue eyes wide and dripping tears as he skidded across the floor. The little boy skidded across the hardwood floor because he was wearing socks that didn't provide enough traction. He nearly fell on his side but kept his balance as he ran right into her. She stared down at him, in the midst of kneading dough so they could decorate a pizza for dinner.

"Steve? Steve sweetheart what's wrong?"

"Mommy I can't find Bucky!"

"Ok, calm down dear and let's retrace your steps. Where was the last place you saw him?"

Steve whimpered, trying to think of the last place he saw him. "Well, um... I had him with me at the table for breakfast and-and he was right next to me when I went to go take my nap! But-but he was gone when I woke up!"

"Did you look under the blankets?"

Steve nodded vigorously, more tears pooling in his eyes, "I even checked the bathroom! I got up in the middle of my nap to use the bathroom!"

He listened to his mother as she hummed, whimpering upset, "Bucky's been taken! He's gone! What will we do?"

"Come on Steve, let's investigate at the scene of the crime," Steve perked up quietly when she started to use a slight detective sounding voice. She took Steve by the hand and walked with him to his bedroom.

Steve's bedroom was rather neat for a four hear old, but he took extreme pride in keeping his bedroom clean. A clean room made for better adventures with Bucky and made his mom really happy. His dresser was closed, with his dirty clothes hamper to the right of that. It was across the room from the end of his bed and he had a small little bin of toys and stacked board games lined against one of his walls. The surfaces of his bedside table and dresser were neatly organized. The only disarray in the bedroom was Steve's blankets, which was tangles and bundled up on the far end of the bed.

Steve's bed was pushed up in a corner up against a wall so there was only one side of the bed he could only fall off from. There used to be baby fences around the edge of the bed because she was worried he would fall out of bed at first but Steve woke up in the same place he fell asleep at night, in the center of his bed.

"Hm?" She approached the bed, gently patting down the blankets until they were flat against the bed and peeked beneath the pillows. With no Bucky in sight hidden under the pillow, she got down on her knees and searched under the bed.

"Bucky?" Steve called as he copied his mother, frowning when he didn't see anything under there but an old sock. He frowns, "Bucky's not here."

"Not _under_ the bed," He looked up at his mother as she climbed to her feet and took a seat right in his bed. She rested her head just slightly against the wall and peered down through the space between the wall and bed. She started to smile and waved Steve over. The small boy crawled over to follow her gaze and gasped.

"BUCKY!"

Steve thrusted his hand into the space, his fingers just barely grazing the soft fabric of his best friends ear. The little boy grunted, adjusting himself along the bed so his back was against the wall. And suddenly the smooth walls disappeared on either side of the stuffed toy, becoming rugged canyon walls. Bucky looked up at him, holding himself up with his legs and arms. Steve leaned further forward, his entire arm disappearing between the gap. His fingers were just grazing the bear, he couldn't fully reach him.

"Come on Bucky! Stretch!"

Steve's mother smiled very fondly at her son as he shouted to his stuff toy to reach up and take his hand. She watched, waiting to assist whenever Steve was ready. But then, as Steve sat up, she saw Bucky being squished in the tightest hug Steve could dish out.

"There he is," Steve nodded and hugged him tightly, "How did he get down there?"

Steve didn't answer immediately, holding Bucky up to his ear. Then the little boy says, "He was wrestling with the boogie man!"

"Did he win?"

"Yep!"

 _ **Chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff**_

 _ **He's Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Willy, nilly, silly old bear**_

The bed creaked slightly beneath the four year old boy as he stood, waving a styrofoam sword. He thrusted it, waving it around at the villainous dragon which towered over them. In his left hand was the sword and in his right hand was his pillow, held up as a shield. The small boy crouched down behind his shield, envisioning hot purple flames to be beating against the impenetrable metal.

"Get back!" Steve shouted, jumping very slightly on his mattress as he waved the sword in an arc.

Steve suddenly lost his balance and fell backwards, giving a cry of shock as he raised the shield to protect himself more from the purple flames threatening to turn him to toast. He looked at Bucky watching at his valiant bear took on the dragon so Steve could recover. He was at awe over his best friend as he wrestled with the beast, but then gasped and lunged to his feet.

"BUCKY!"

The dragon was right on top of Bucky, mouth wide open and ready to turn Bucky into barbecue. Steve was upright and threw his sword right threw the dragon, killing it instantly as the sword continued to fly across the room and knock into his lamp. It fell with a crash, shattering across the carpet and sending his mother running in.

"Steve! Steve what happened?" She stood in the doorway as he stood on the bed, holding a rescued Bucky.

"I defeated the dragon... And took out an innocent lamp."

There came an exasperated sigh and she goes to the bed and lifts him up off of the bed and carries him to sit on the couch for a time out. She knelt down in front of him and said very clearly, "Steve, you know that you aren't to throw your toys across the room. Even if you were fighting a dragon. While I clean up the broken lamp you need to sit here ok?"

"Ok mommy. I'm sorry."

"I know you are, stay here. I don't want you to get glass in your foot."

Steve watched his mother walk away and stared down at Bucky. But Bucky was angry at him for getting them in trouble and was giving him the silent treatment. Steve frowns, not understanding why his friend was upset. It had been am accident and his mother wasn't really that mad. She didn't yell.

"Bucky, please talk to me." But Bucky didn't answer.

"Please Bucky, you know I hadn't meant to break that lamp. It was an accident. I didn't want the dragon to hurt you."

Bucky huffed, not saying a word.

"But Bucky- fine. Be that way," Steve set the bear down on one end of the couch and turned his back from him, "Throw your tantrum."

So the two played their game, giving each other the silent treatment. Then Bucky started to come around, he had never seen Steve not talk to him for this long and started to feel guilty. Steve stared at Bucky after a few moments and the poor bear was begging with an apology. The bear was so sorry for being mad. He had the chance to calm down, and now that the bear thought of it, his anger was unjust.

"What's that Bucky? You're sorry?" Steve smiled, "Come here."

The little boy hugged the bear tight.

 _ **Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff**_

 _ **He's Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Willy, nilly, silly old bear**_

He clung to his mother's hand tightly with his left hand and hugged Bucky close to his chest with the other. His mother held a sign with Steve's neat but childish writing in black sharpie marker on it. It had be one of the only times his mom let him use permanent marker and he couldn't help but feel a bit excited by it. But now as he stood here, in the middle of an airport lobby waiting for passengers to file in from the plane, he was feeling a bit nervous.

"Mommy?" Steve said in a small voice.

"Yes Steve?"

"Bucky wants to know how much longer until daddy gets off the plane? He's getting bored and I'm tired of standing."

"I know you are sweetie, but he'll be off the plane soon. Promise."

"Bucky wants to remind you that you said that earlier. Like, forever ago!"

"Steve look, people are coming."

Steve huddled closer to his mother as people came filing out of the door which led to outside at the plane. He looked up at the strangers, waiting for his daddy to come into view but didn't see him. He started to worry, what if his daddy didn't make the flight or got lost and got on the wrong airplane? Or, what if he liked Washington DC way better than being with Steve and his mommy and didn't want to come back? He looked down at Bucky, who was telling him to not worry. But Steve could tell that Bucky was a bit anxious too.

Then he saw him, a tall and well built fit man with light brown hair cut very short. He was wearing green camouflage army pants and jacket, with a dark grey t-shirt right underneath it. He looked around before happily setting his eyes on Steve and his mother, arms outstretch to hug them. Steve immediately released his M&M's hand and ran at his father.

"Daddy!" He leapt into his father's arms, wrapping his little arms around the mans neck. He never let go of Bucky either, hugging his brave father so tight it was impossible to get the kid off. Two strong arms wrapped around him and held him off the ground and onto a hip.

"Steve?" Steve nodded vigorously, "Are you sure? You're much taller than the Steve I last saw!"

"It's me daddy! Me and Bucky!"

"How is Bucky anyways? Did you bring him with you?"

Steve nodded vigorously, holding the bear out right in front of his dad's face and squeezed the bear tightly. He hugged him close and said, "Of course he came daddy! I would never leave Bucky behind. He wanted to come too! He loves you too!"

Steve watched his dad smile and carry him towards his mother, the small boy not aware of the other people awing at the family reunion. He watched his parents kissed and held Bucky tightly in his arms as they went together to baggage claim. Steve started to talk animatedly to his father, telling him about his friends at pre-school and all the adventures Steve and Bucky went on.

"Those sound great Steve, you and Bucky think you can make room for this old man to join you both tonight on an adventure?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded, looking at Bucky, "Bucky says you have to! It'll be so fun! And them after we can watch a movie! I got a new one last month!"

"What movie Steve?"

"The Jungle Book! I've been waiting to watch it with you daddy!"

Steve watched as his father smiled, "Sounds great kiddo. Will there be popcorn?"

"Absolutely!"

* * *

The little boy yawned as his father laid him down in his bed, trying to be subtle and silent but failing. The small boy yawned and stretched his arms out. He found a Bucky and pulled the bear closer to his side as he gazed up at his dad in his dark room. He looked tiredly up at the man and said, "Hi daddy."

"Hi Steve," Steve heard the smile in his dad's voice, "You should be going to sleep."

"I will," Steve yawned, "But one more kiss first ok?"

"Alright," Steve smiled as he felt his dad press a nice little smooch onto the top of his head and held Bucky up for one the moment his dad pulled away, "Bucky too?"

"Yeah, Bucky too."

"You really love Bucky don't you."

"Bucky's my best friend," Steve whispered, "He's the best. I love him so much. The best part about him is that he was a present from you."

That made Steve's dad smile and he reached down to give his son another kiss on the head, "I love you Steve."

"I love you too daddy," Steve whispered as his dad played along and gave Bucky a kiss between the ears, "Pancakes for breakfast?"

"Yes, pancakes for breakfast. Now goodnight."

Steve smiled as his dad stood and made his way quietly to the door, the small boy hugging Bucky close as he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

 _ **Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Chubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff**_

 _ **He's Winnie The Pooh, Winnie The Pooh**_

 _ **Willy, nilly, silly old bear**_

Bucky didn't like this doctors office. The chairs weren't comfortable, the walls were dull and boring. There weren't any toys in sight, only boring grown up magazines. There wasn't even a tv in the corner for him to watch. Bucky hated this building, he didn't like it.

"I know you wanted to go to the park," Steve whispered, "And we will, but mommy and daddy said we had to come here first."

The bear was still angry. He didn't like being here. Steve didn't want to be there either, it wasn't his first choice of places to be but he wasn't going to throw a fit. He knew that this was very important, that it was important that the entire family be here. That's why Bucky wasn't waiting in the car, because he was part of the family.

"Please don't be mad Bucky, nothing is going to change."

Bucky didn't believe Steve though. Everything was going to change, and soon Steve won't have time to play with Bucky. That or not want to play with the poor bear and Bucky didn't want to be left alone. Bucky didn't want to be left alone in that bedroom.

Suddenly, a young looking woman came into the waiting room, "Stephanie Rogers."

"Come along Steve."

Steve stood, having been sitting in the corner slightly away from his parents so they could talk quietly to one another. Steve followed close behind, taking his dad's hand as they went into a room. Steve looked around and popped a squat on one of the plastic chairs while his mom slowly stretched out on the medical bed. Steve looked at the doctor with a smile as she started to introduce herself.

But Bucky didn't smile, he wanted to leave and forget that this was ever happening. He didn't want to be here, but Steve started to reassure him again that nothing was going to change for them, that Bucky would always be his best friend. Bucky ignored Steve, staring up at the main monitor as the doctor rubbed some weird jelly like goo on Steve's mom tummy. Steve was still staring at the goo with a funny expression as the doctor started to press a long wand like stick over the goo.

"Look!"

Bucky stared at the image that appeared on the screen shocked, looking exactly at where Steve was pointing and silently gasped. Amongst the squiggly lines he saw an off little shape and got curious. What was that little shape?

"Look Steve," Bucky listened to his best friends father as he spoke with great interest, "Theres the baby."

"The baby?" Steve gasped and looked at Bucky, "Look Bucky, look at the baby!"

Bucky grew nervous, because the baby was there and it was real and he didn't want to like the baby. But it was so small and cute, it needed some protection at night like Steve and looked so tiny. Oh how could Bucky hate that tiny little thing? Maybe Steve was right, maybe nothing would change with the baby around the house.

* * *

 **Some of Steve's adventures of course are all in his imagination! I have to thank Russian Assassin for the idea. I don't know if this is what she had in mind but it was too cute of an idea to resist!**

 **Clint's bandaid covered hands is to elude or hint at blisters for calloused fingers. For archery. Not abuse! It's for the archery, the callouses and blisters.**

 **One of my favorite chapters, this was fun to type. I was tempted to have Bucky need a new arm stitched up but... I couldn't think of a reaso** **n why his outfit would change and why the arm would be grey.**


	13. Say Something

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Say Something- By A Great Big World**

* * *

 ** _Say something, I'm giving up on you_**

 ** _I'll be the one if you want me to_**

 ** _Anywhere I would've followed you_**

 ** _Say something, I'm giving up on you_**

A crack echoed amidst the shooting and reverberating hollow dings of bullets bouncing off of Steve's shield. He held the man up against the concrete wall, some blood dripping down from the side of the guy's head. With the fabric bundled in his fists, the archer held the guy up so his feet dangled off the ground, eyes level and noses very close. With an angry hiss, an animalistic violence flickering in his eyes, Agent Barton made his demand, "Where is she?"

The man looked at Agent Barton, glancing briefly at the sight of his comrades falling before Captain America, being knocked and shot down like they were tin soldiers. He took a shaky breath, scared of the man who appeared ready to stab an arrow into his crotch at any minute.

"Around the corner, down a flight of steps..." He was fading into unconscious and required the archer to slap him sharply across the face, "Third door on the left."

Hawk-Eye dropped the man, leaving the goon to succumb to unconsciousness. As the few men were dispatched, he motioned for the Cap to follow after him, practically running.

* * *

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap; that was the sound echoing across the hanger as Natasha Romanov tapped her foot impatiently. She was constantly glancing at her watch, waiting for him to come and see her off._

 _Even though he was avoiding her, he always came to see her off when she was going away on a solo mission. He always came to see her off, even if they weren't talking, he would just stand there and watch her board and disappear for who knew how ling. Days, weeks, months... He always saw her off like she always saw him off. Even when they were restricted to med bay they'd break out to see each other off. Where was he?_

 _"Agent Romanov, five minutes till departure."_

 _She nodded in acknowledgment, turning her gaze upwards to see if he was lurking in the vents. But she didn't see any sign of him up there and as she turned her gaze back to the door, her chest ached. Where was he? Why was he leaving her in such anticipation? Why was he avoiding her? Because of what she told him? She had meant every word if it, and he shut down on her. In their relationship, it was expected for her to shut down on him at an admittance of love. Agent Barton was full of surprises._

 _She looked down at her watch again, 9:56. Four more minutes. Where the hell was he? Does he really not care?_

 _She shouldn't have told him. Deep down she knew that this was going to happen, that they were good friends and family. That there couldn't be anything more than that already intimate love and care shared for a partner who you share such thrilling and horrific adventures with. But she was sick of seeing him constantly getting hurt, not knowing sometimes if he'll pull through and regretting not telling him. She couldn't take it, she spent her entire life hiding her emotions and not loving anyone. Natasha had been adamant to change that and did. It backfired right in her face._

 _9:57. He was likely waiting for the last minute, to be that kind of dick. He was like that sometimes, annoying but lovable. She loved him, she couldn't stop loving him. She just wished he would stop being childish for a minute and continue with the tradition they've set up._

 _"Two minutes Agent Romanov."_

 _"He's coming," She reassured herself, not moving from her spot. She looked down again at her watch, watching as the numbers changed and she had one minute. Her expression briefly turned to on of hurt but then emotionless. She was professional. She had a mission to do._

 _Natasha boarded the ramp and turned at the top, looking back at the doorway and vents to see if he was there. But Clint wasn't there. He failed to show up. He didn't show up. As the ramp went up, her chest started to hurt and her stomach was twisting. She felt the desire to cry just a tiny bit overwhelm her but fought it off. She turned to grab her phone, checking to see if maybe he texted her or Coulson texted her for Clint._

 _There were no such messages on her phone. She handed it to an agent with the instruction to give it to Coulson for safe keeping and threatened him if he failed to comply._

* * *

The metal door was thrown open, and for a moment Hawk-Eye was frozen in the doorway as he stared at her. Her skin was pale and grayish, not the usual alabaster white he teased her about when they were in hot, sunny, sun burn causing terrain. Her red hair, which had been long and curly like when she was "working" at Stark Industry, was short and barely enough to be fanned out around her. As he got closer, he saw that the ends of it were burnt. No one cut her hair they burned it. Her eyes were closed and there was blood pooling beneath her. He rushed over to her, getting down on his knees and pressing his fingers against her cold neck.

There was barely a pulse beneath his fingers, her skin was so cold and she was barely breathing. There was blood all over her, blood still seeping from the wounds in her sides. From his observation, they hadn't so much as cut her but carved into her. Her nose was really bruised and there was a bullet wound at the base of her spine he couldn't see.

"Nat?" He couldn't bring himself to use code names right now, trying to see if she could hear him, "Nat can you hear me?"

She didn't answer, Cap came up behind Agent Barton and nudged him, "We gotta get her out of here."

He nods and slowly wrapped his arms around her to lift her up. But the moment he stood, with her against his chest, she gave a heartbreaking cry of pain. The Black Widow gasped and her eyes flashed open, the green orbs blind as the pain enveloped her. It broke the archers heart, as her blood soaked through his suit and got over his arms and hands.

 _ **And I... am feeling so small**_

 _ **It was over my head**_

 _ **I know nothing at all**_

 _ **And I... will stumble and fall**_

 _ **I'm still learning to love**_

 _ **Just starting to crawl**_

 _A smile stretched out across her usually serious face, and the fearsome Black Widow playfully shoved Clint away from her as they walked, tacos in hand. Clint moved back and playfully bumped into her, knocking her slightly off track. They were both smiling, looking like two normal New Yorkers out on a date._

 _"I can't believe I let you drag me to that movie," Natasha shook her head with a smile, "I can't believe of all the movies we could have watched, you insisted in seeing R.I.P.D.."_

 _"It was-"_

 _"Awful Clint. Admit it, it was awful. The worse movie we've seen yet."_

 _"Fine fine," Clint relented with a smile, "It was awful. But..."_

 _"But what?"_

 _"I liked the idea."_

 _Natasha looked at him confused, not understand what he was getting at. He smiled at her, giddy that this was now another moment in their relationship where he had stumped her._

 _"I liked the idea of having the adventurous afterlife, I like that even after he died, the guy got to continue protecting the innocent. I really hope that might be us when we die."_

 _"When we die you want us to still be fighting crime? What about relaxing?"_

 _"Nat you know we don't know the meaning of that word. We live off adrenaline and adventure."_

 _She smiled, "I guess you're right. It would be pretty cool, and after we could always haunt Fury and Hill and Stark," Her voice got soft and a bit nostalgic. She stopped after a moment and just continued to chomp on her taco._

 _"We'd make a good team," Clint nodded, tossing his wrapper into a trash can. Natasha did the same and hooked her arm through his._

 _As they grew closer and closer to her apartment, Natasha started to get an uneasy twist in her lower abdomen. She rested her head against his shoulder, wondering if this was a good idea. Ever since they got back from Romania, she'd been feeling this overwhelming urge to just crawl into Clint's arms and never leave. The emotion arrived the moment she thought Clint had been shot fatally in the chest, unaware of the bullet proof vest underneath his shirt, and ever since she had been struggling to keep it under wraps. She knew what the feeling was, love has popped up more than once for Clint. It was all extremely eye opening for her. Sure, Clint had taken some beatings and forced to spend more than an hour in medical, but he always pulled through. If he got killed in the field, with a shot in the chest like she thought had happened, she'd regret never telling him how she felt._

 _When it came to love, Natasha Romanov was like an infant who was taking those first struggling attempts at crawling. She didn't even know how to walk. Loving someone and having someone love her, in that intimate romantic way she never imagined for herself, was huge for her. She wanted Clint to be that person, the person she trusted everything to._

 _Natasha looked at him, tugging on his arm to get his attention. He gazed down at her and she met his gaze. Fear tightened her chest, and she wondered if this was a good idea. As they came up to her apartment building, she took a deep breath through her nose._

 _"Clint?"_

 _"Mhmm?"_

 _"I love you."_

 _Clint stopped, sliding out of her grip so he could turn and fully look at her. They stood in front of the apartment building, Natasha's green eyes staring at him with raw emotion. Her eyes brimmed with the emotion, her hopes dimming the longer silence held them._

* * *

 _"Goodnight Natasha."_

 _Thats what Clint said. No 'I love you' back or a snarky 'I knew it'. She felt like her heart was breaking but at the same time was reasoning with herself that maybe Clint's silence wasn't out of condemnation of her feelings and she merely caught him off guard._

 _But then he stopped taking her calls. He stopped answering her texts. He was avoiding her as much as possible and that painful heartbreaking sensation persisted all the more stronger. She'd go to bed at night and wake up in the morning, not understanding what had happened to them._

 _ **Say something, I'm giving up on you**_

 _ **I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you**_

 _ **Anywhere I would've followed you**_

 _ **Say something, I'm giving up on you**_

He ran with her gurney bed, trying to keep her in sights. There were new details in her face he hadn't noticed before like the slightly sallow cheeks and the burns at her scalp. He could see a few of them through the red locks she had left and it hurt that he hadn't noticed anywhere. He heard someone shouting his name behind him, but he couldn't leave her. He had to stay with her. Agent Barton needed to be there to tell her it was ok.

Steve's hand clasped firmly around his shoulder and pulled him back just before the doctors and Natasha disappeared into the operating room. Neither knees exactly what they were doing in there and it had Hawk-Eye nervous. He needed to be with her. But Steve spun him around to go sit in the waiting area. So the archer collapsed on the couch the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facilities had and stared straight ahead at the door.

He vaguely acknowledged what Steve was telling him, how he called Hill and Fury and that they were coming. He acknowledged all of Steve's attempts of conversation and trying to see if Clint needed coffee. He answered with silence eyes trained on the door because he needed Natasha. He needed her. There was no way to describe it but he just needed her.

* * *

"Clint," He was watching the archer with deep concern, not wanting to guess what kind of pain he was going through. Steve already experienced it, he knew it was the worse feeling ever. He didn't want to disturb Clint but the archer hadn't eaten all day and needed something, "Clint you need to eat."

He finally glanced down at the roast beef sandwich Steve was trying to push in his lap with a side of chips and an apple. For a moment, he was reminded of that one time Natasha dragged him to Panera's for lunch. He remembers that her right wrist was swollen, his shoulders were aching, and that both their ribs were bruised and possibly cracked. They had a half hour before pick-up and she wanted Panera. He remembered getting in line with her, as she ordered the mac and cheese, and getting an italian combo sandwich. They asked him if he wanted chips, bread, or fruit with it, and Clint started complaining to Natasha at their seats how ridiculous it was to get more bread with a sandwich. She waved him off, sipping her acai berry green iced tea as they waited for their buzzer to go off. He then remembered how lame the chips were, how he had to drink his Dr. Pepper to get rid of the taste. He finally shut upped when she gave him money to go buy a dessert. He bought a chocolate pastry and a double fudge brownie for Nat, and complained how they had a cranberry orange muffin but not a chocolate chip muffin. She tried to reason with him that they had a chocolate chip muffie but he threw his little adult tantrum and said that the muffie was no where near the equivalent of a chocolate chip muffin.

Is that where Steve got the food? At Panera's? Honestly Clint didn't notice the man leave so for all he knew Steve drove to Panera's and they actually let him walk out with the plate and stuff. Hey, wouldn't be the first time it happened. Then he noticed that it was indeed S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria food.

"Not hungry," He trained his eyes back on the door. Steve sighed and set the plate in front of the archer, not willing to fight him. It been hours since she disappeared behind that door, where was she? Was she ok? Was she awake yet? Did she want to see him?

Finally, to his dread and relief, a doctor stepped through the doors. He didn't even need to ask, he knew that Agent Barton was here for Agent Romanov. But there was something wrong, Clint saw it in his eyes. He saw the fear and grief and uncertainty all rushing together and the way the man held no certain expression on his face. The clipboard was gripped tight enough to turn the knuckles white. Seeing this, Steve rose to his feet, standing near Clint as he approached the doctor.

"Where is she?" Clint didn't want to hear about her injuries, the Black Widow he knew was a fighter. He needed to see her, to talk to her.

"Agent Barton," The doctor sounded gravely nervous and upset, but Clint didn't want to hear it. He wanted to see Natasha, "We need to discuss Agent Romanov. Her injuries were very severe and... we can't determine if she's going to pull through."

Silence. Clint stared at the man in silence as he said this. He kept thinking how Natasha was a fighter, how she'll be ok.

"We had to put her in a medically induced coma. We aren't sure if she'll make it."

Something snapped, maybe it was the part where Nat was under control of a bunch of drugs forcing her to stay asleep or maybe it was the part where they honestly don't expect her to survive. So many times doctors didn't know if she'd make a full recovery, this man was saying he didn't think she'll make it. Clint lunged forward to throttle the man, guilt and anger eating away at him. Steve held him back, keeping Clint from killing the man as he backed away. When someone came over with a sedative, Clint just more worked up and Steve shook his head. The Captain held Clint around the arms, keeping things from getting too far out of hand.

He struggled against the super soldier screaming in anger and grief as his heart started snapping into two.

 _ **And I... will swallow my pride**_

 _ **You're the one that I love**_

 _ **And I'm saying goodbye**_

Infection. Infection and blood loss. That's how she was going down. She was going to die in this little white room, a room she had learned since early childhood to loath, from infection and blood loss. This wasn't how she was suppose to die. She wasn't suppose to die at all. Not alone anyways. He imagined they'd go out together, maybe holding each other depending on how they go out. He didn't spend a lot of time thinking of how he wanted to die but he always assumed that they'd go out together. He always thought it be out in the field, fighting till the last breath. Not here. Not in a place they learned to hate.

He learned to hate this place because of her. He learned to hate it because of how active he wanted to be but couldn't. He learned to hate the doctors and the hospitals because of what she'd been through and what it all reminded her of. He was learning to hate it for this reason too.

She was still so grey, so lifeless looking. Her hair was a mess as it was, burnt from torture. There wasn't enough to fan around her head on the pillow. She had a tube breathing for her at a mechanically set pace, she had heart monitors and other machines monitoring her. He didn't know exactly for what or why, but he didn't want to know. He just knew that the doctors calculated her chances of waking up over and over again and they were extremely poor. They told him and Fury that the infection was too serious and she loss too much blood. Even with a blood transfusion there wasn't any chance she'd make it. Fury told the doctors to keep her going for a week, they needed to give her time to shock all of them. And if she wasn't awake by the end of the week they'd talk about taking her off the life support.

He's been sitting at her bedside every day, he knew Fury was doing it for him. That old spy had seen Natasha pull a lot of miracles but he knew this wasn't one of them. And Clint knew that Fury didn't think she'd pull off another miracle. Clint wanted her to, he needed her too.

"Remember that mission in Texas, we had stopped at a road side diner to get some dinner. I was so hungry I wasn't in the mood to really think anything over and actually ate bull testicles. You knew what I was eating when I ordered, I think they were cow nuggets or cow niblets, but you didn't say anything until I finished the entire thing. You constantly bring that up when we're in Texas."

She didn't answer, but Clint was hoping on the inside she was laughing her head off at the memory. This was the only way he could talk to her, about memories.

"I got back at you though. I tricked you into eating rattlesnake."

He stopped talking, the forced jovial tone in his voice disappeared and he stared down at Natasha. She told him that she loved him and now she was going to die. Did she know this was going to happen? Or is god just really angry at Clint again and wants to take another person he loves away. Natasha was too full of life to die. He felt his throat start to constrict and his stomach hurt.

"They're going to take you off life support tonight," He took a shaky breath of air in and gripped her cold hand tightly in his. He took in another shaky breath, "They said that it's time. Fury-Fury says it's time Nat. He can't wait for a surprise resurrection any more. Neither can the doctors.

"I don't want you to go Nat. But you aren't meant to live like this. You have no control and it's my fault. I-I didn't get to you in time. I didn't tell you anything I should have told you that night you-you said you loved me. I don't know if you still love me, I don't care if you don't. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot!"

He gasped for air, something wet rolling down his face. He didn't swipe it away, he merely tightened his grip on her hand. His entire body trembled, like when he was little and his dad would come stalking up to him to whip Clint with his belt or beat him. He clenched his jaw and took a sharp intake of air.

"I'm gonna find all the bastards who were involving with killing you. Who did this to you. I'll kill them, every last one of them. I-I love you 'Tasha. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I didn't tell I love when you said it to me! I'm sorry Nat. I-I didn't know what to do. How to cope. I didn't think you'd actually would love me. I didn't know if you were being overly sentimental and got caught up in everything. It's the biggest mistake of my life though. I love you Natasha Romanov. I love you!"

His breath hitched from a hiccup, he brought both hands up to cover his face as his body was wracked with hysteric sobs for a few moments. This shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't be sitting here talking to her practically dead body. They should be out on a other adventure they'll get to laugh about. As the last sob ended, he removed the calloused hands from his face and stared back down at her.

"There's no excuse," He whispered ashamed, "No excuse why I didn't say it back. It feels like excuses because I love you 'Tasha and not telling you was the worst mistake of my life. It will always be my worst mistake."

The beeping of the machine answered for Natasha, which made Clint extremely unsettled.

"Think of it this way Nat. You'll finally get to relax," He whispered softly, tears streaking his face, "You'll be able to relax and you won't have to worry anymore."

 _ **Say something, I'm giving up on you**_

 _ **And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you**_

 _ **And anywhere I would've followed you (Oh-Ooh)**_

 _ **Say something, I'm giving up on you**_

 _For one of the few times in Agent Barton's life, he had chosen to hide instead of face his problems. He was skulking around the lower, darker levels of the base, moving from shadowy corner to corridor. He wasn't suppose to be down here, even if he did have the clearance for it. There was no reason for him to be down here, in the dark depths of the base, where some of the most dangerous secrets were hidden in the base. It was the only place he could bring himself to go though, the only place he reasoned he'd be able to distract himself in._

 _In five minutes she would be gone for her mission. In five minutes he wouldn't need to hold his breath at every hour of the day, cautiously roaming the base in his efforts to avoid her. He wouldn't need to worry about confronting the Black Widow before he was ready until she got back. If he would ever be ready._

 _Nat said she loved him. She said she loved him. How the fucking hell was he suppose to expect that? How was he suppose to respond?_

 _Ok, obviously he should have answered her with some passionate kiss to solidify their mutual love for each other, but he never expected her to actually say anything. He never expected Natasha to actually feel the same way, or be the first person to admit it. With the issues they both have when it comes to trust and abandonment and letting people in, and their stubborn natures, he had believed that they would be holding it in for forever until Clint finally cracked._

 _Anxiously, the archer looked at his watch and sighed. Three minutes. He couldn't help thinking about her, standing in front to the jet waiting for him. That was their thing, they always wished each other luck on their solo missions and told them to not get shot. Well, that and other things. He wondered what she was thinking about, and if his best friend was still waiting for him. Or, and this made his stomach twist uneasily, had she never expected him to come whatsoever?_

 _"Get a grip Barton," He scolded himself, leaning against a wall. He watched a light bulb flicker ominously, trying to stop thinking about her and that night when she said she loved him. He couldn't wrap his head around it still, the admission made him uneasy and anxious. What did those feelings mean?_

 _God, there was no worse time for Coulson to be dead than this._

* * *

 _Steve watched him pace nervously, unsure how to best grab the archer's attention and get him to calm down. It occurred to the man that this was exactly how Natasha felt when Clint was under Loki's control, out of her reach and unfindable. She was inconsolable to whoever had the task then of keeping her calm. Hawk-Eye was mimicking her, restless and impatient for a location and extraction team._

 _"Clint," The agent cocked his head slightly at the soldier, listening but not in the mood. It was too late to go back now, "You need to calm down. Getting yourself worked up isn't going to help anyone."_

 _He glared at Steve, his jaw tightening, but said nothing as he continued to pace. Clint muttered in a language Steve didn't recognize, but listened nonetheless. Maybe he would hear something that sounded familiar and give him an idea of what the other was saying._

 _Where was she? What was happening? Clint needed to know, he was desperate to know, where Natasha was and if she was ok. He wasn't stupid or delusional, he knew she was likely hurt or being tortured, but he needed to get to her before whatever injuries she have get infected or worse and she can't take them anymore. He should have said goodbye to her. He should have watched her go. Why didn't he? He didn't need to have to say anything, they didn't need to talk, and where was she? He didn't know. But he wished he'd seen her off. It felt like he jinxed her mission by not seeing her leave._

 ** _Say something, I'm giving up on you_**

 ** _Say something..._**

They didn't want him to be there when they did it. They were worried he would lash out on them and stop them. They wanted him to wait in the hall or just sleep through it. But he insisted, he threatened them, that he was there when she left him. The doctors continued to stare at him nervously, suspicious, thinking that at any minute he would leap like a predator on it's prey.

Clint bit his bottom lip, watching the mechanical movement of her chest rising and falling, her breathing dictated by a machine. She wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want to have things control what she did and how. She wouldn't want machines controlling her, controlling how she was breathing and what her body was doing. Even if it was life support and suppose to be helping her.

The heart monitor stopped, a long beep puncturing the air as the machines stopped. Her chest stopped rising and falling, and a white sheet was being pulled over her. Death claimed the Black Widow, the seductress who captured his heart. The Black Widow, his partner, his best friend, the woman he loved.

The last words she said were "I love you", the three greatest words he had ever heard in his life. If only they weren't the last words he heard. If only he heard it more than one time.

* * *

 **Yeah. If you really think about it while listening to the song it can be heartbreaking. Just heartbreaking and so full of feels. Poor Clint. Poor stupid idiotic Clint.**

 **At first I wasn't sure if I was gonna do this song but now that it's done and I tried, it's really nice. Also, no one talk to me about Agent Carter, I only watched the first hour of the new episode last night. JARVIS HAS GIVEN ME ENOUGH EMOTIONAL PAIN! No SPOILERS ABOUT THE NEXT HOUR.**

 **Thanks independentalto for the review. Little Steve was fun to write.**


	14. Wildest Dreams

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Wildest Dreams- By Taylor Swift**

* * *

 _ **He said, "Let's get out of this town,**_

 _ **Drive out of the city, away from the crowds."**_

 _ **I thought heaven can't help me now.**_

 _ **Nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down**_

Her head was buried into his shoulder, red curls cascading lazily across her forehead as she felt him shift beneath her. He move slowly, shifting side to side as he slowly moved to straighten himself out, eliciting a pained moan from her lips as she tightened her hold on his right arm. The sound made him wince, murmuring soft apologies into her ear.

"It's fine," Her voice was slightly hoarse, and her green eyes were flickering up at him. They were wider, filled with unrestraint emotions that Clint didn't have the heart to analyze and observe.

He ran his thumb along the fabric of her soft, flannel pajama pants. He stared at the navy blue coloring, with the little cartoon puppies running across her thighs and knees. She was wearing his Mets t-shirt, baggy and overwhelming upon her small figure. Her usually clear, flawless alabaster skin was a sickly pale, with dark rings starting to form beneath her eyes.

Her eyes scanned over him, huddling slightly closer in his side while biting down hard on her lip. He was in his dark grey sweatpants, that were stained just a bit from the faint remains of their many indoor excursions. There was ranch dressing, ketchup, a tiny splatter of blood, drips of ice cream, and some soda stains, which persistently stayed despite the many _many_ washes the pants faced. He was wearing an old dark blue long sleeve t-shirt with the familiar white eagle symbol of their organization on the shoulders. He had gotten the shirt when he started to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. from Coulson.

Pain threaded it's way across her entire body, intense to the point where she could almost feel it beneath her skin in the form of spindly threads. It was like her nerves were on fire, flaring up at random moments and momentarily getting better for a few moments. It was all inconsistent, which she hated, but holding on to Clint made her feel better.

"We need to get out of here."

She perked up a bit when he spoke, turning her body slightly so she was facing him. She hummed, "What do you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," He smiled, slowly getting up off of the couch, bringing his hand down to help her up and whispered, "You go get dressed into something nice and comfortable, I'm gonna dress and pack for us both ok?"

"Ok?" She stared at him, questioningly. She didn't like not knowing, it was bothering her. Why was he keeping this a secret? He usually told her where they were going unless it was to see another S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor and usually he didn't make it sound so exciting. He didn't give much enthusiasm about it. But he sounded rather excited about whatever this surprise was. She turned, and made her way towards her room.

The moment she was gone down the hall and out of earshot, he grabbed his phone and started to call Tony. Tony picked up after the second ring, which honestly didn't surprised him.

 _"Barton? What's-"_

"Relax," He kept his voice calm, relaxed. He could hear the fear and confusion in the billionaire's voice and sort of regretted calling him while he was at an important conference with Pepper. He knew how important it was for Tony to be there and how angry he was that he had to be there and not here, "I need the use of your credit card and a car today."

 _"Okay,"_ He sounded confused but didn't question it, _"And nothing's wrong? Everything's good?"_

"Yeah, calm down Stark. Nat and I are just going to take a field trip."

Clint leaned against his bedroom door, not realizing he had been walking to his room while he was on the phone, listening very quietly for any sign that Natasha was eavesdropping or almost done getting changed. "I gotta go. Give Pepper my regards."

He quickly hung up before Tony could get another word in and entered his bedroom. He wasted no time dispelling his pajamas, throwing on some of his dark purple and black swim shorts and a green arrow t-shirt Natasha had gotten him during her mission involving a comic book convention. He grabbed a backpack and started to shove in an extra pair of clothes, some towels, some sunscreen, and a book Nat would want to read. He forced a small smile to himself as he grabbed his favorite pair of shades.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Natasha couldn't help asking, feeling restless in the car. Even though he had brought her a book to read for their drive, she was getting anxious and fidgety. She didn't care to listen to "Ex's and Oh's" for the fifth time that day, feeling a painful ache race through her as she tried to focus on the other cars driving across the highway with them.

She didn't have it in her to turn her head and gaze at him, choosing to look at her own reflection instead. Her green eyes had lost much of their edge, the dark rings beneath her eyes making her look like an insomniac. She felt some pain start to flare and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as she waited for it to pass. She felt Clint's calloused hands on her hip, rubbing small soothing circled into her skin.

 _'I don't deserve this,'_ Natasha couldn't stop the thought, it was taunting her since the moment she entered the car. She didn't feel deserving of this, of whatever this spontaneous surprise that Clint decided to give her.

"I told you it's a surprise," Clint answered, still rubbing her hip even after the pain had faded away.

"Come on Barton, we've been in the car for hours."

"We're almost there."

She sighed, letting her head rest against the back of the seat and the window, watching with still calculating eyes as the car merged into a lane and moved off of the highway. She hummed confused where they were going and tried to use her extensive knowledge to figure it out. They had passed a few tolls, needed to stop twice for gas. Where the hell were they going?

"Clint?"

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"Stop asking, that's not going to change anything. I won't tell you."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's a surprise Natasha, stop acting like a child."

"Excuse me?"

Clint laughed and suddenly Natasha gasped. Her eyes widened considerably and she straightened, ignoring the little flare of pain running up her spine as she gazed at the iconic sign in front of her, a sign which they were quickly approaching and soon about to pass. She didn't dare glance at Clint, incase she was hallucinating or seeing things. But she finally turned her eyes onto Clint and said, in a hoarse voice full of shock:

"You brought me to Six Flags?"

 _ **He's so tall and handsome as hell**_

 _ **He's so bad but he does it so well**_

 _ **I can see the end as it begins**_

 _ **My one condition is**_

Clint's hand was tightly wrapped around her waist as they made it through the front gate and security, his hand squeezing her hip in confidence and comfort as she tenses beneath him. He doesn't blame her, because the crowd makes him anxious and uncomfortable as well. The screaming kids as they run ahead of their parents, people shrieking on the adrenaline pumping rides, the crying that came from a spilt ice cream cone. It didn't really help that they couldn't bring anything with them to protect themselves if something happened, despite the low odds. Not a single weapon was on them or in their bags to protect them against the very unlikely enemy they might face on their spontaneous trip to Six Flags.

"What do you wanna do first?" He asks her, smiling as she sighed at him.

"I wish you told me, I didn't think to bring a bathing suit."

"Don't worry," He smiled, "I got an extra pair of clothes for us both and towels."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "You're a jerk."

No he wasn't, Natasha leaned into him and let him keep her close as they wandered farther from the gate and towards a more secluded, less crowded area of the park to start in. Her eyes wandered across everything, settling across a tall metal structure, that towered over her in the shape of a triangle. She heard a large amount of screaming coming from it and looked up at Clint to see if he was looking at it as well.

"Scream Tower," He read off of the sign, but Natasha was more focused on the three legged tower, which spanned up 205 feet in the air. She watched as the row of seats hovered in the air dropped with no warning. Just watching it made her stomach lurch.

"Shall we?"

Natasha bit her lip in contemplation, she usually associated screams of fear with terrifying and traumatic events like the Battle of New York. She knew people screamed when they were excited and having fun as well, but they had never sounded so closely related then now. She nodded, her hand falling on his wrist and pulling him to the line. She ignored the twisting that was occurring in her stomach, focusing instead on the overly bright and colorful tie dye shirt of the guy in front of her.

When another round of hysteric screaming reached her ears, she tightened her hold on his wrist. She did it subconsciously, feeling safer and more secure when he was close to her, there to reassure her that everything was safe. He was a safety blanket, an unintentional safety blanket but one nonetheless.

It occurred to her, as her and Clint made their way closer, the line shrinking, that it was a bit strange Clint and herself had never been here for any kind of mission. It was a crowded place, a good location to make discreet transactions and trades without being spotted easily. Of course, the security was pretty tight. Not a single bag made it in without being extensively checked.

"We're next."

She heard the smile in his voice, and it made her smile, small but brightly, at the bit of excitement he portraying in his voice. The screams didn't bother her so much this time, and she took his hand tightly now instead of clinging to his wrist as she waited for them to descend back into the ground. Now that she thought about it, the ride wasn't that scary. After all, her and Clint have survived far more scarier things. Like crashing that jet in the middle of Manhattan because Loki shot them down, or those long torture sessions during their botched mission in Hong Kong. Hell, she survived against the Hulk. Granted she was running from the Hulk but she had survived.

The little metal gate opened finally, and as the riders reentered the park Natasha and Clint went over to the ride. He set his bag down in his lap, securing it so he didn't need to set it down on the ground where something could get stolen from it. Natasha stared at him, watching as the dark shades disappeared from his face and into their bag so they didn't fall off. She tightened her hand around his as the seat buckles fell down and they were all clicked into place. She suddenly felt nervous, why did she need to have a seat belt going across her waist and shoulders, and these padded place holders to keep them securely in place.

Clint tightened his own grip on her hand, staring at her. She felt the ride start to move slowly upwards, and she focused on Clint so she didn't stare down at the twenty story drop they were currently climbing. He smiled, and she smiled back, being brave and looking across the park to watch it span out beneath them. But then there was screaming, her own mixing in, as they shot straight up to the top. She clenched his hand, squeezing his fingers close together as she gasped for air, unable to take her eyes off of the 205 feet spanning out beneath her. And all she could think was, _how the fucking hell did we get up here so fast?_

"Nat," Clint winced, "I think you're gonna break my hand."

"Shut up."

He was smirking at her, she didn't need to see it to feel it, and watching her as she gazed down at the ground. He turned his gaze down to the twenty story drop and smiled, picking out some of the rides and sights from their position. He smiled, trying to find their car in the parking lot. But just as he thought he found it, they suddenly started to drop in the air for two seconds, screaming all around him. And then he realized that he heard Natasha screaming and then they suddenly stop for a few micro-seconds and he opened his mouth to make some sly comment that usually gets him a punch to the arm, but then they drop just as he opens his mouth and he can't help but scream.

It stops again, a little jump and the ride starts to inch a bit higher again. And then they're falling again and all Natasha can see is the ground flying right up to her and all she feels is her stomach right up in her through and her heart thundering in her chest. There's a familiar tingle in fingers and arms, but she can't think much past that it's familiar because her hair is suddenly whipping around a bit in her face and she can't see. There's another jump and for a moment she feels a discomfort across her collar bone but it disappears very quickly as they start to fall again. Natasha sees the ground swiftly approaching and she instinctually draws her legs up as she braces for the fall.

In her ear, she hears Clint screaming and laughing, and for a moment she can't understand why. But then they're back on the ground again and she can't help but breath slightly frantically, trying to calm her beating heart. The safety harnesses rise and she scrambles to unbuckle herself, trying to keep a cool composure to avoid any teasing from her archer. Clint's still laughing, holding his hand out for her when she starts to rise and wraps his arm back around her waist.

He opens pens his mouth to make a crack about her never screaming that loud when they're sky diving but quickly clams up. It's not worth a very sore and bruised arm this early in the day.

 _ **Say you'll remember me**_

 _ **Standing in a nice dress,**_

 _ **Staring at the sunset, babe**_

 _ **Red lips and rosy cheeks**_

 _ **Say you'll see me again**_

 _ **Even if it's just in your**_

 _ **Wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh,**_

 _ **Wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh.**_

His arms are wrapped around her waist, holding her securely to his side as he gripped the metal bar in front of him tightly. He looks down at her seatbelt, tempted to tighten it for the third time even though it's as tight as it will go. Natasha has an arm around his back, clinging to his shirt in a balled up fist as she looks up at him with a smile. It doesn't make him feel much better, he should really be the one sitting in the outside instead of her. It was still bugging him how the employee, as he came around to make sure everyone was seated securely, didn't dare ask if they would mind switching positions for safety.

"It's starting," He heard the small smile in her voice as the ride started to spin around, and he watched as she tightened her own hold slightly on the metal bar. Her hair started to tickle his neck and he tried to ignore it, but it was just whipping against his sensitive, ticklish skin.

It was not until the ride started to rise up in the air did Clint actually start to brace himself. He felt the wind in his face, extremely cool and refreshing to the hot, burning sun that was beating down against him. He felt Natasha tense just slightly from beneath his arm and heard all the excited screaming coming from around him. Then the right suddenly started to tilt and he felt himself sliding back into Natasha. Natasha gave a noise of surprise, and Clint strained with his arm to keep her from colliding with the side of the car and getting squished by him. But they were still slipping and he tried to keep he entire weight off of her.

And then he heard the familiar sound that always made him happy, and he couldn't help but look over at Natasha as he heard her laughing. Her red curly hair was blown completely back from, swirling behind her in the wind. Despite the pallor of her skin, she looked more alive than he had seen her in the last few days, her green eyes bright with excitement and exhilaration. She turned to look at him and just continued to smile, and for a moment he was completely tempted to just let go and lean into her.

Them they started to tilt the other way and Clint suddenly realized why they called the ride Joker's Wildcard. It literally felt like they were being shuffled, like a deck of cards. Back and forth they were shuffled, his hip and side constantly hitting Natasha's hip and side, and he finally gave up trying to keep them still and laughing, holding her tightly as she threw her hands up in the air and gave a thrilling scream. He'd never seen her so carefree before.

He starts to laugh as well, throwing a hand experimentally up with her. But then his hip slams really hard into the side of the car and he cringed, gripping the metal ball again. She laughs, having seen the flickered change of his expression and places her head on his shoulder, holding on to his arm and crooned playfully, "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Shut up," He couldn't stop smiling though at her, his face was really beginning to hurt. She was so carefree, so free, and he was trying to take it all in. Moments like this when Natasha was open and all her barriers were down were rare and private between them, and every instance was appreciated. He didn't want her to stop smiling.

 _ **I said, "No one has to know what we do, "**_

 _ **His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room**_

 _ **And his voice is a familiar sound,**_

 _ **Nothing lasts forever but this is getting good now**_

"Clint!" It came out more like a whining child than a serious assassin, and she gave a stubborn glare at him as he continued to rub the white substance into her pale limbs. She made a move to swat at him, but he caught her hand between his slippery fingers and forced her arm down.

"Nat!" He copied in the same whining tone, laughing as his thumb began to rub into her forehead, spreading the banana scented sunscreen across her skin. She had such pale, sensitive skin. There had been more than a few missions where she returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. nearly as red as her hair because of the intense sunburn she'd gotten on assignment. He swore there was nearly nothing worse than dealing with the Black widow when she was covered head to toe in sunburn.

"You're treating me like a child."

"Well," He says, "If I don't who will?" He wasn't fast enough to catch the slap she sent into his shoulder and he smiled, "Come on Nat. Don't let me trying to keep you from getting sunburn ruin our day."

"I'm not," She huffed, crossing her arms. It made her look more like a child though and he couldn't help but laugh at the slight pout she was unconsciously giving him.

"It's out of love Natasha," He reminded her, "We both know how much you hate sunburn."

She sighed, unable to argue anymore as she let him rub the white substance across her skin, focusing in her breathing and the pleasant scent of bananas. Almost as if he knows, he starts rubbing soothing circles into her back, his hand sliding beneath her shirt with some sunscreen still making his fingers oily. She didn't mind, he was helping her. Her eyes scan the area, landing on the, at the moment, vacant henna tattoo attraction and hummed in thought. She stared down at her hands, and then at Clint. They weren't real tattoos, and the airbrush would look more colorful but if they decided to go swimming then the tattoos wouldn't disappear.

"Clint."

"Yes?"

"I know what I wanna do next," She spoke calmly and softly, taking his wrist and pulling him towards the people doing henna. They were two woman, one of them working diligently on the floral design she was tracing on the forearm of a young girl.

Natasha took the vacant seat, shooing Clint away as he hovered over her shoulder. She held her arm out, the left forearm exposed to the henna artist. It was the only spot on her body exposed to the sun that wasn't slick with sunscreen. The woman, her hair tied up off her neck in a messy hair-do, stared at Natasha and asked, "What would you like?"

Natasha pointed to one of the images she had so people didn't take forever trying to figure it out. The woman nods, "Please hold still."

Natasha watched, feeling Clint's gaze on her back. Clint's eyes flickered back towards the young girl who stood, the henna finished. As she walked out, Clint hesitantly came over and sat down in the no longer newly vacant seat. Natasha had her back to him so he couldn't clearly see the henna design she was getting. He held his right arm out for the woman, handing over enough money to pay for them both.

"Could you do something with an hourglass and spiders?" He whispered softly, not wanting Natasha to overhear. But she did anyways. The woman nods and starts to draw the design along his forearm.

* * *

Clint gave a closed mouth scream, the tips of his fingers threading his temples on a desperate plea to relieve himself of the horrible discomfort. Natasha smiled at him, incapable of suppressing a laugh. She nearly snorted, using his pain as an opportunity to steal some of his ice cream.

She gave a satisfied hum, pulling her cold stone sundae away from Clint as he goes to protest. She held her spoon up and said, "No way Barton. And as I said before, the Cookie Mintster doesn't live up to Chocolate Devotion."

"Oh shut up," He snatched up his spoon and made a lunge for her ice cream. He moves in to snatch some of it out, but Natasha is faster. She's standing, moving away from their table and holding her waffle bowl full of ice cream protectively.

"Nat!"

Natasha shook her head and took a large spoonful of ice cream, savoring the deliciousness as it melted into her mouth and across her tongue. She leans against a pole and watched him with a challenging gaze. Clint glared and scarfed down a large spoonful of his minty ice cream, before grabbing his head again and screaming. He started to curse in mandarin, and Natasha couldn't help feeling a tiny bit guilty as she laughed at him.

"Oh Clint," She sighed, moving over to him to rub his back. Natasha set her ice cream down and despite the sharp ache slowly traveling through her nerves, set her attention on making him feel better.

But then his head snapped up, nearly connecting with her forehead. His hand shot out and scooped up some of her own ice cream. The spoon moved like an aerial jet, going straight from the chocolate ice cream back to his mouth. Clint's eyes widened as he savored her ice cream, humming. Natasha stared at him with eyes wide, not having been fast enough to stop him. She raised a hand to smack him but stopped, clenching her jaw and leaning into him. She clung to his arm as she shook, gingerly taking in some more ice cream to distract herself.

"Hey? Are you ok?"

She looked up at him and closed her eyes, "Give me a minute."

Clint rubbed her back, letting her eat her ice cream to distract herself and actually ate some of his own. He rubbed little circles, circles and triangles.

"You were right," He murmured, "The chocolate is better."

She nodded, turning her arm so she could gaze down at the henna on her arm, dried and starting to chip away from her skin. The hawk, well the hawk's head, stared back at her in beautiful detail. The feathers and the beak looked beautiful, the piercing eyes staring up at her. Clint looked down at it as well, smiling as he traced it very lightly with his finger. He stared down at his own forearm and pulled Natasha closer into his side.

"When are you going to learn that I'm never wrong?" She murmurs softly.

"Likely never," He whispered, "Because I'm just that annoyingly stubborn."

"I know," She moved her head off of him and goes back to eating her ice cream, "But so am I," She spent a few moments just enjoying her ice cream and he noticed that the light was shining through her red locks, making their brighter and more vibrant. He just wanted to run his fingers through her hair and hold her close, hold her as if nothing bad will ever happen. She then said, humming a bit as she started to speak, "After we finish this, we should go on the Dark Knight."

"The Dark Knight," He smiled, "Do you think you can handle it Romanov?"

"I hitched a ride on an alien flying chariot, I propelled myself through the air via a shield. If I can steer a flying alien chariot by riding an alien's back than I can handle a little roller coaster."

"Really? Because you were screaming your head off earlier today. On Scream Tower."

That argument immediately got him his ice cream smushed into his face, Natasha going on eating her ice cream all innocently. She kept it well out of his grasp so he couldn't deliver her the same treatment.

 _ **He's so tall and handsome as hell**_

 _ **He's so bad but he does it so well**_

 _ **And when we've had our very last kiss**_

 _ **My last request it is**_

They were the only two adults without children on the Carousel. Clint sat closer to the center on a bench decorated to look like a sky blue sled with bronze ornamentation. Natasha was leaning into his chest, half sitting on him and half laying on top of him. Her green eyes were closed, the carnival music drifting across her and veiling her like a lullaby. He watched her, waiting for her green eyes to stare back up at him as they moved slowly in a clockwise fashion. He couldn't help thinking that she looked to be asleep, so calm and at ease with herself.

Natasha opened her eyes for a moment, watching Clint as he gazed out in front of him at the children and families. Right in front of him was a father, riding on one of the more stable horses while his little daughter rode bravely on the animated one, giggling as she went up and down. He couldn't help but think of the woman in his lap as he stared at the little girl and it made him hold on to Natasha tighter.

It was beginning to occur to Clint that this might have been a bad idea. Children had never been an option for Natasha, not naturally at least, and he knew very well that bringing up a child in this world, with what he did, was the worse thing he could do. Sure, Clint would probably be a loving father, far better than his own, but kids needed a father and stable home life. Clint couldn't provide that. He had always known deep down that having a family might never work, both of the assassins knew deep down that there were more cons than pros and many things stopping them. But watching that father with his child was tearing open an old wound in Clint, it made him really resent his job at times.

Natasha squeezed his hand tightly, staring right at him and focused on the teary, slightly far away gaze in his eyes. She tightened her grip a little more around it and said, in a soft voice so no one would overhear, "I know," She blinked, trying to not give way to the same emotions plaguing him, "I know."

He nods, wrapping his arms around her waist as she sits up, closing her eyes some more as she used him for her pillow. She traced the henna on his arm, her finger running over the design. She tightened her hold on his shirt, taking a sharp intake of air between clench teeth. Her face hid itself in his shoulder and it hurt Clint to see her like this suddenly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, trying to keep himself calm and steady. If he got worked up, it would only upset her. She'd feel the unsteady heaving of his chest and hear his nose stuff up.

"I got you," Clint whispers, "I got you 'Tasha."

She nods, listening to the music and the children giggling. She slowly lifted her face off of his shoulder and stared up at his eyes. She didn't look much better than she did at the Tower. She looked pale, the dark bags under her eyes looking worse, and her eyes were watering terribly. Clint ran a finger down her cheek, brushing a stray eyelash away. Natasha stared up at him, trying to blink the tears away. She didn't understand what had brought this sudden emotional reaction out of her but she couldn't stop it.

It was like an act of fate, as though they had anticipated the other to make a move. It was like a scene right out of a movie, Natasha taking hold of Clint's face with both her hands and bringing him closer to her as Clint moved his hands to her hips and held her even closer to his chest, as if it were possible. Their lips met, and a fiery passion like nothing either of them have experienced when kissing before rushed over them.

 _ **Say you'll remember me**_

 _ **Standing in a nice dress,**_

 _ **Staring at the sunset, babe**_

 _ **Red lips and rosy cheeks**_

 _ **Say you'll see me again**_

 _ **Even if it's just in your**_

 _ **Wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh,**_

 _ **Wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh.**_

Clint didn't want to let her go, but their desperate need for air made it necessary to break apart their kiss. Natasha stared at him with a watery gaze, closing her eyes tightly and sucking in a deep breath of air to steady her nerves. There was a discomfort in the crook of her neck and a sharp little pinprick of pain in her left shoulder blade. She felt her chest ache, her emotions taking a physical manifestation around her heart.

She didn't want this day to end, she didn't want to leave. There was nothing she wanted more than to just ride the Scream Tower and Joker's Wildcard all day, letting that adrenaline surge through her and give her an almost drug like euphoria. She didn't want to go back to the tower, where everyone milled about and the most exciting thing to have happened was Thor breaking a toaster. Couldn't they live here? Wasn't there some sort of resort like section of the park? Like in Disney World? Disney World had that Cinderella's Castle, didn't Six Flags have a place like that?

"Nat? Nat look at me."

Clint watched as she slowly opened her eyes again to stare at him and gave a small smile. He wasn't trying to reassure or comfort her, because he knew he wouldn't be able to fool her or himself. He merely held her, taking in this entire day and moment as best he could. He would be lying if he said he didn't want to stay here longer. He wanted to be here with her, eating nothing but cotton candy and ice cream from the ColdStone Creamery. He wouldn't mind getting henna and air brushed paint across his body every day, lathering himself and her in sunscreen to prevent severe sunburn and skin cancer. Six Flags was practically paradise.

"There is no need to get so upset understand?"

"Clint-"

"No," He interrupts, "We are done talking about that understand? Come on. We're here to have fun and we still have fun to have. Even if it isn't at Six Flags. Come on."

He didn't even wait for her to get up, merely wrapped his arms around her back and legs and stood. He carried her in his arms and made his way off the ride and towards the exit. It was obvious that she was starting to slow down and get too tired for more walking and standing in ridiculously long lines, "Come on, we have more fun ahead of us."

Natasha stared at him, wanting to make a fight out of being carried when she was capable of walking but didn't have the heart to struggle against Clint. She just sighed, her head against his shoulder and muttered under her breath that she loved him.

 _ **You see me in hindsight**_

 _ **Tangled up with you all night**_

 _ **Burning it down**_

 _ **Someday when you leave me**_

 _ **I bet these memories**_

 _ **Follow you around**_

Natasha laid in their, originally Clint's, bed, staring at the tv. The room was dark, allowing the colors to appear brighter by comparison as she watched Legally Blonde. The blankets were pulled up to her, keeping her warm, and there was a Wii remote near her left foot as well as the case for Mario Kart. By her right foot was a stack of all the Star Wars movies, the Harry Potter films, and the Fast and Furious films. She frowns, waiting for Clint to return with some drinks, pain medication, and snacks.

Of course, Clint was right outside in the hallway, arms filled with cans of soda, bottles of water, Advil, and tons of snacks. But he was a bit preoccupied, trying to not drop everything as he stood on one place and was losing his grip fast. Steve was holding him up, trying to get a conversation out of Clint about a topic he didn't want to talk about.

"Steve," Clint narrowed his eyes as he stared at the blonde, "Look. I really don't want to talk about this right now. Alright? So, do you mind?"

"I just don't-"

"Don't what?" Clint snapped, and for a moment Steve froze before him. In that moment of silence and shock Clint took full advantage of it and quickly gathered his composure. He was not going to walk back into his room upset and short tempered, not going to give Natasha a reason to be concerned or worried for him. He needed her to be relaxed and happy, to be content and comfortable. He took a deep breath, "I don't care how good anyone's intentions are right now, all I care about is the red head laying in bed alone watching Legally Blonde without me. Ok? I need to be with her right now. And I don't need you or anyone else interrupting that by talking about things I don't want to hear."

Steve sighed, trying to not get frustrated with the archer. He knew that this was very important to him and that the other Avengers breathing down his and Natasha's necks wouldn't do anything but make them extremely uncomfortable and upset. He didn't know what else to say and just nodded his head, the best thing he could do was respect Clint's wishes even though he was extremely worried.

Clint took that as his cue to turn back into his bedroom and opened the door, pushing it open very quietly. He managed to make it to the bed before everything fell through from his arms, sliding with a soft, almost inaudible thump onto the blankets. Natasha turned around to face him, craning her neck as she stared from him towards the assortment of goods he brought with him. She gave a small smile, one that didn't fully reach her eyes as she reached out to take the Advil and twist it open. Frowning, Clint took a seat besides her and started to open a bottle of water.

"That bad huh?"

"Mmhmm," She hummed, sitting up a bit more as she took the pain medication and popped it into her mouth, chugging the water back a bit. It wasn't as strong as what the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors has prescribed her but she didn't want to take those until before she conked out for bed. They were really strong painkillers and made her extremely drowsy. Plus, she was a trooper, she just needed the Advil to take off a little of the edge and she could handle it. Of course, little did she know that Clint had switched the bottles on her to help keep her comfortable.

"Those pills will make it better," Clint promised, watching her settle back down and laid next to her, reaching over to rub her back. He glanced at the tv and asked, "Where are we in the movie?"

"She's heading for the "costume" party," Natasha explained, shuffling closer to him. He was so warm, and he made a comfortable pillow for her head. She rested her head along his shoulder, holding her water bottle beside her. She heard Clint hum in acknowledgment, as well as open a bag of smart food popcorn.

"You know eating isn't usually allowed in bed," She murmured, though not entirely caring, "But I guess I can make an exception just this once."

"Just this once?" Clint couldn't keep his amused smile off his face as he responded to her, his eyes never drifting from the screen. A comfortable silence fell between them, with Clint munching quietly on his popcorn. Now and then he listened intently to the sound of Natasha's breathing, waiting for her to fall asleep. She gave a small but deep yawn, settling up against him and underneath the covers. It made him smile to hear her breathing turn deep and steady, a slow rhythm that was almost hypnotic to listen to.

Clint turned his eyes on the screen, paying attention to the movie, which he'd seen countless times before, and to Natasha. He wasn't quite willing to sleep yet, or at all tonight. He couldn't bring himself to do it, the idea of it made his chest constrict and heat prickle behind his eyes. He couldn't bear the idea of falling asleep and leaving today behind him. He didn't want to wake up in a new day because he knew no other day would be able to top the day he just had with Natasha.

When Legally Blonde was over, he put on the fourth Harry Potter movie, absentmindedly. He closed his eyes for a moment listening to the theme song and smiled, thinking back to when he had first introduced Natasha to the movies and books. It had only been two and a half months into their partnership, and they'd been stuck in a safe house for an extra two days because of an outrageous blizzard. Clint liked to think that those eight movies were the reason why they hadn't killed each other in that tiny little hide away. Sure, they had to watch the movies illegally online and stole another persons wifi but it was worth the amazing bonding experience that came out of it. They hadn't been able to watch anything past the third movie before S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to retrieve them, Clint hadn't come up with the idea until a few hours into their extended stay, but it amazed Clint how quickly Natasha had gotten ahold of all seven books and read through them before they set down to watch the other five movies.

* * *

 _"THAT'S MY SON!"_

Natasha scrunched her nose up as her sleepy brain began to process the sounds of Harry Potter: The Goblet of Fire. She shifted just slightly, feeling Clint beside her, and pressed her face just a bit into the pillow as the colorful light flashed behind her eyelids. It suddenly occurred to her that Clint's chest was shaking and his breathing uneven. She turned over and opened her eyes slowly to stare up at him and see him crying. His tears dripped a bit onto her cheeks and she frowns concerned.

"Don't cry," She murmured, startling him, "Don't cry Clint."

"Nat? When did you-"

"Shh," She shushed him, feeling her eye lids grow heavier and heavier. She resisted the urge to yawn, "Please stop crying Clint. It's just a movie."

She closed her eyes and felt him take a shaky breath. Exhaustion weighed down on her like heavy sand bags weigh down a hot air balloon, and she heard the hysterical sobs coming from the tv. It made her stomach twist and her own tears flicker persistently to the surface. She reached for the remote, unable to take it anymore and shut the tv off, leaving them in nearly absolute darkness.

"Clint..." Her voice was a bit thicker, and she tried to re gain her composure, "Please stop crying."

"I can't," He whispered, the ex-circus performer staring down at her. The food and drinks were still around their feet, some more dangerously close to the edge than others. He hadn't meant to start crying, he really hadn't, but when Cedric died it really hit him close to home. He had been so young, and he died so suddenly. It wasn't fair. Why was life so unfair? Why did people have to die? Why was it without much warning? Why didn't people have time to prepare? Why was it all unfair? Couldn't there be something fair in life?

"Clint," She whispered, "Please, stop watching Harry Potter. Please? Go to sleep. Please?"

Natasha smoothed the hair from his forehead, her green eyes watching him through the darkness and waiting for the most subtle of changes in his expression. She brought him close to her and for a moment all of their immediate problems and concerns were thrown out the window. He was with her and she was with him and everything felt as normal as it could be for the two assassins.

"I love you," Natasha whispered, staring up at him very quietly. She brought his arms around her more securely and held on tightly to him. She felt her eyes starting to close and it was becoming an excruciating challenge to keep them open.

"I love you too Natasha," He whispers, settling deeper into the blankets. Natasha took this as a sign that he was resigning to sleep as well and let her eyes fall close again. She felt him adjust her very slightly, and felt his breathing slowly even out beside her.

"I love you," She murmured sleepily.

 _ **You'll see me in hindsight**_

 _ **Tangled up with you all night**_

 _ **Burning it down**_

 _ **Someday when you leave me**_

 _ **I bet these memories**_

 _ **Follow you around**_

He woke up to the aggravating noise of some random New Yorker honking his horn from within his yellow taxi cab at some idiotic jaywalker. He turned over, turning his back from Natasha and trying to avoid the irritable sunlight assaulting his eyes.

The longer he laid in bed and fought to ignore the sunlight, the more uncomfortable he was becoming in bed for some reason. The sheets felt tangled up awkwardly around his calves, and he felt very warm in the most uncomfortable way possible. The streets were particularly noisy, the beeping horns cutting through the silence in the most absurd way possible. He couldn't help but give a strangle cry as he tried to drown it out, but consciousness evaporated the remaining bit of drowsiness left in his system. So with a frustrated groan, he threw open his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Aggravation blinded him for a moment as he laid on his back, making his head ache from the sudden rise of emotions.

He laid there for a mere moment, listening to the sounds of his breathing and the sounds of traffic growing a tiny bit fainter. Clint sighed and slowly sat up, throwing the blankets off of him so the cooler, natural temperature of the room washed over him. It made little goosebumps rise along his arms and he turned to take the remote. He reached over Natasha, as she had been the last one to hold it, and froze as he stared at her. She looked so still and felt rather cold.

"Nat?" He asked, his voice wobbling a bit as he searched for the tiniest sign that her chest was rising and falling, that she was breathing. He couldn't find it though and his chest started to constrict, he felt like he couldn't breath.

"Nat." It was firmer, and he held his hand over her shoulder. He didn't want to shake her and interrupt her sleeping in the slight chance that he was over reacting but he could hear his own heart beating and feel it against his chest. He could hear his breathe rattling slightly in his lungs as the pace quickened.

When she didn't answer, he got onto his knees and started to shake her very lightly. Her entire body turned over she was laying on her back now, and he stared at her colorless face, her eyes still closed. He put his hand to her neck, feeling for a pulse with one hand while tapping her face very lightly.

"Natasha, Natasha wake up," His breathing quickened and he stared at her. There wasn't a pulse. He sucked in a deep I take of air, hiccuping slightly, "Natasha! Natasha!"

Clint started to shout, desperately trying to get her to open her eyes, "Natasha! NATASHA!"

Something wet went splat against her cheek, landing right under her left eye. Clint couldn't feel himself breathing, but he knew the air was going in and out as quickly as possible, not full filling the intended affect of calming his rapidly beating heart. Another little drop fell onto her face, landing on the bridge of her nose, and he started to scream. It was extremely painful, animalistic and savage. His throat went a bit raw but that didn't do anything to stop him as he started to sob, his eyes burning and snot clogging his nose. Hitches interrupted the borderline hyperventilation, creating gasping hiccups.

 ** _Say you'll remember me_**

 ** _Standing in a nice dress,_**

 ** _Staring at the sunset, babe_**

 ** _Red lips and rosy cheeks_**

 ** _Say you'll see me again_**

 ** _Even if it's just pretend_**

 _"On your right!"_

 _She spun around, turning just in time to see a Hydra agent aim a gun at her before she shot him dead. Her bullet pierced his forehead and his entire body collapsed like a fabric doll with a wooden head. The body fell forward, another victim of the Black Widow, but she didn't cast it a second glance before seeing their target make a run for it. The white lab coat fluttered behind them, disappearing around the corner and narrowly avoiding her assaulting bullets._

 _"He's getting away!"_

 _She broke out in a run, leaving her partner to finish off the remaining men. With the grace of a gazelle, the Black Widow avoided the onslaught of bullets craving to pierce her skin and make her bleed. She took long strides, practically gliding on air as she twirled and moved with the grace her ballerina training provided her. No one could touch her and she broke out in a dead run the moment she stepped around the corner, following the coward towards the labs. They were the only two, their footsteps echoing across the otherwise vacant hallway. She saw him, merely a few feet ahead of her, duck across the steel thresholds to her right and disappeared into what she presumed to be a lab._

 _"Nat where are you?"_

 _"Approaching the target. He's cornered himself Hawk," She responded through the earpiece, tightening her hold around her glock._

 _She stormed through the lab with the authority of ten level seven agents, green eyes scanning the room. It looked like most labs she had been in, with white marble table and counter tops set on pure black legs or settings. Racks of test tubes lined one of the tables and she could see from the glowing computer stimulations and charts she didn't have the time or patience to unravel. The Black Widow scowled for she didn't see any scared scientist trying to gather crucial research to either attempt escaping with or destroy._

 _A sharp pain suddenly exploded, a hand clasping itself to her neck as she spun around with her gun drawn. She fired the shot before she could fully process what was stabbed in her neck and by who. A stupid error, but she was suddenly high strung from the adrenaline and shock. She watched as the scientist collapsed, blood flowing freely from his chest. She stumbled back, staring at the nearly empty syringe laying beside the cold, unmoving hand. She squinted at the strange translucent purple liquid within it and slowly removed her hand from her neck where the needle point punctured her. It was a bit red on the upper part of her palm from her blood and everything started to spin._

 _Falling onto quivering knees, fuzzy dark splits began to alter her vision. Out of nowhere, startling her archer in the other end of her ear piece, she shrieked. The Black Widow clawed at the skin around her forearms, clenching her teeth. It felt like liquid fire was burning through her instead of blood and she wanted it out. She wanted the pain, the unexplainable pain, to stop. She could heard Clint on the other end, shouting her name and demandin_ _g to know what was wrong but she couldn't bring herself to answer, curling in on herself_ _._

* * *

 _Clint sat at the very edge of her bed, gripping her hand tightly. His back was facing her body however, his grey blue eyes staring up at doctor intently. Natasha didn't take her eyes off of the man in the white lab coat either, watching and analyzing their every movement. She had enough bad experiences with doctors to know that she didn't want to add another one to her many horror stories. Clint stared from the doctor back to Natasha, finding it hard to believe that she was in a paper hospital gown and tucked into the cot. She had an IV and a few other tubes in her, though he didn't know what they were exactly connected to and what was in the bags they were connected to._

 _"Agents Barton, Romanov," The doctor greeted. Natasha saw on their ID badge that they were Dr. Clarke, and just nodded in response to the woman. The doctor didn't look that intimidating, she was smaller and had no muscle definition in her, but a doctors strength was in their medical knowledge, not their physical strength._

 _"What's the verdict doc?" Natasha asked, smirking a tiny bit, "I'm dying aren't I?"_

 _Natasha continued to smirk for a few moments, waiting for the doctor to frantically respond no and explain what had happened and when she could leave. But Dr. Clarke didn't say anything, her expression drooping. The woman frowned and her eyes conveyed raw sadness. Natasha frowns in response, putting the pieces together very quickly and said, in disbelief, "I'm dying?"_

 _"The drug you were injected with Agent Romanov, it wasn't a drug. It was an experimental toxin, we've found a bit of data from the labs concerning it but it's just a cocktail of volatile chemicals."_

 _"But you can fix it right? How longs it gonna take? When can she leave and interrogate the idiots we captured?" Clint tried to not panic, he couldn't let Natasha hear the fear in his voice. Natasha didn't die. She got hurt, really badly sometimes, but she didn't die. Dying was not in her vocabulary. This doctor was just going to get him worked up for no reason and he didn't need that._

 _"Agent Barton," Natasha sat up a bit when she heard Dr. Clarke's voice crack, "There's nothing we can do. The toxin is too complex for a simple break down. It's going to take time to break it down and then reconstruct an effective anti-toxin. Time, I am afraid, Agent Romanov doesn't have."_

 _"My serum-"_

 _"It's the reason you aren't dead," Dr. Clarke interrupted, explaining. She wiped at her eyes, a bit more distraught than she should be about delivering this news, "Your serum is slowing down what would have been an almost immediately painful death. It's going to burn through you, tearing away at you and killing you very slowly. It's too potent. We think it was meant to kill Captain America. In the next couple of days Agent Romanov, you'll be experiencing some flare ups of pain. We can prescribe you some pain killers to make you more comfortable but other than that we honestly can't do anything. I'm sorry."_

 _Clint's hand tightened tremendously around Natasha's, to the point where it was starting to hurt and make affect the blood flow. Her hand was starting to feel fuzzy and go numb, and she nudged Clint as the archer sat their in ice cold shock._

 _"You're dying," His words were hollow, they sounded strange to both of them. Natasha found it difficult to breath. She felt her lungs rattle in her chest as she started to just shut down and go into a numb sort of panic. She couldn't be dying. She couldn't be. The Red Room gave her a serum, not as fast or powerful as Steve's, but it was successful. It protected her against diseases and common poisons._

 _Dr. Clarke continued to speak but it fell on deaf ears. Seeing that the two assassins didn't hear her or were laying attention, she turned and left them to be alone so they can cope in peace._

* * *

 _"They say you only have a few days to live."_

 _"I know."_

 _Natasha sat across from Hill, staring down at the small pile of papers before her. Hill sat across from her, looking as professional and serious as ever, with hands clasped a bit too tightly before her. Natasha took a pen and started to write things down across the blank papers. She didn't need Hill to explain to her what this was, she knew. This was her last will and any requests she had for her funeral. It was very quiet, too quiet for the Deputy Directors liking. There was a tension thickening, at an exponential rate, and after a few moments Natasha couldn't take it anymore either._

 _"Please don't get sappy or anything," She never took her eyes off the paper as she wrote in her best little curly handwriting. Few people have ever actually seen it. She had many different signatures, "I really get enough of it from Steve and the other guys."_

 _"I know."_

 _Silence fell across them as the red head continued to write. Natasha handed a stack to Hill after she finished ten pages so the woman could bring those papers to the lawyer who they had legalizing all of these papers last minute for her due to the urgency of it. Natasha's will wasn't long, there wasn't much she had to give to people or a large family to give it to. She focused her energies on the current things she was writing. She wanted to get this done before Hill returned._

 _"Does Clint know you're here?"_

 _"No," Natasha answered when she returned, "You didn't tell him did you?"_

 _"No," The other woman whispered, "Are you almost done?"_

 _"Almost. But, you can't give this to the lawyer. It's for Clint... For after."_

 _ **Say you'll remember me**_

 _ **Standing in a nice dress,**_

 _ **Staring at the sunset, babe**_

 _ **Red lips and rosy cheeks**_

 _ **Say you'll see me again**_

 _ **Even if it's just in your (just pretend, just pretend)**_

 _ **Wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh**_

 _ **In your wildest dreams, ah-ha ohh**_

 _ **(Even if it's just in your wildest dreams) ah-ha**_

 _ **In your wildest dreams, ah-ha.**_

Pepper's loud hysteric crying made Clint's chest constrict tightly, and he turned away as salty water began to bleed from his closed eyelids. He took a shaky breath, his entire body shaking as he exhaled. Someone's hand tightened around his shoulder, squeezing it as a show of empathy and comfort.

At the coffin, Pepper held her hands over her mouth as she cried. Tony pulled her into his side tightly, bowing his head low in respect for the once fierce woman laying in front of him. Pepper's tears ran freely down her face and she needed to turn away and move from the body before she made a scene. Tony didn't fight her, unable to keep his own breathing steady as he stared at her.

Her red hair was brushed, the curls tickling her pale cheeks and shoulders, the vibrant color looking wrong against the woman's dead lifeless skin. Her eyes were closed like she was sleeping, the green orbs never to stare up at the world ever again. She was still wearing her pajamas, the same ones she had fallen asleep in. The inside of her coffin was made of red velvet and a dark blue blanket had been draped over her by Clint, pulled up from her feet to her chest to keep her "warm". The outside of the coffin was made of black wood and resting beside her head, Steve had placed a bottle of her favorite vodka.

Fury approached the coffin, staring down at her very silently. Clint watched, unable to bring himself forward to Natasha's coffin in front of all the visitors. He knew he'd break down and he couldn't let everyone see him so vulnerable. He sat in a chair, watching, trying to keep himself together.

Hill took a seat besides him in another chair, dressed in all black and staring down at the carpet and their feet. She reached into her purse and pulled out a white envelope, sealed tight and placed it gently within his hands. Clint stared at it, pinching it tightly between his fingers. He glanced up at Hill, seeing the woman approach the coffin next to pay her respects and last goodbyes to Natasha.

Clint turned his gaze back onto the envelope and gently opened it. He recognized the familiar curly handwriting and felt incapable of breathing.

 _Dear Clint,_

 _I know this is going to feel sappy and be some sort of cliche we would usually make fun of in a movie. I know this isn't going to make anything easier for you and that, right now, you want nothing more for me to be alive and cursing in Russian as we kick ass. I wish I was too. I want to be with you._

 _But, because life has never been fair to either of us, you're resigned to burying me six feet into the ground. And I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to stay alive. I know even though this is poison, I could have prevented this from happening. I just know I could. You may forever disagree with me about that but there was more I should have done. Nothing is going to prevent me from thinking that way, not until I die._

 _This is not a will. I'm not giving you some secret treasure or a key to anything you don't know about. I-_ Clint noticed there were were some splotches of tears on the paper that weren't his _-I love you. And I want you to continue living, because there was a time where you lived life without me. A time neither of us care to remember, but it's true. I don't know if there is any such thing as an afterlife and if there is, I don't wanna see you here on the other end any time soon. Don't follow me. Don't follow me into the unknown which is death Clint. Please. I'm always going to be with you. Another cheesy cliche, but it's the truth._

 _I'm sorry to do this to you. Maybe you should have killed me when we met. Maybe I should have killed you. We would save saved ourselves from this god awful torture. I'm sorry I didn't say I love you enough times. I'm sorry I took so long to say it. I'm sorry I couldn't even give you a child and had to lie to you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I regret so many things and wish it could have been different. I'm sorry._

 _I love you. I want nothing but the best for you. One day, not in the near future, I will see you again and until then I'll be waiting. Whether it's Hell or Heaven or nothing at all, I'll be here after you're saving the world a gazillion more time._

 _Love,_

 _Natasha_

The black ink started to bleed a bit as his fat, salty tears rained down on the paper. The silence of the room was broken by his hysteric wail. He clutched the paper tightly between him fingers, eyes closing as he kneeled forward so far he could almost touch his knees with his forehead, he cried hysterically, shouting her name in every language he knew.

* * *

 **Finished! Although this is unfortunately, a very depressing story. Excruciatingly sad when you really look at it. But this actually really helped me. My great aunt just passed away and this has really helped pour out all of the sad and depressing emotions, as well as the stress of just every day life. I'm sorry if I upset people. No hard feelings?**

 **Please review. I'm sorry it's two sad clintasha chapters in a row. Next one will hopefully be different. I hope everything in this chapter was coherent and understandable. Personally, I've never been to Six Flags before. Everything came from the website.**


	15. Thinking Out Loud

**Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

 **I do not own any of the songs used in these one-shots**

 **I do not own any of the characters from the Avenger Movies (or any other Marvel Movie) and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Romanov and Banner wouldn't be a thing, and if they were, it would have been done much more realistically than in Agent of Ultron. I don't list characters in here because for all I know they may never be used in my writing.**

 **Some of these chapters might be set in an AU setting. If that happens I'll try to give a warning. Each chapter is a one-shot. The pairings are bound to mix up, personally I'm a Clint/Tasha shipper but I might surprise you. Disclaimer: This is self explanatory but I still need to say it.**

* * *

 **Thinking Out Loud- By Ed Sheeran**

 **Warning: References to Agent Carter**

* * *

 ** _When your legs don't work like they used to before_**

 ** _And I can't sweep you off of your feet_**

 ** _Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?_**

 ** _Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?_**

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she stared up at him, her small hand squeezing his tightly with a strength he didn't think would be possible in her tiny, fragile state. Peggy let herself stare at Steve, her thumb rubbing his long fingers softly. She had a fond little smile on her face that extended to it's fullest reach in her eyes and the silence around them was light and airy, like a warm spring day when it was instead raining outside. The sound of rain smashing with all it's might into the windows was the only disturbance to the silence but it was so faint it was undetectable. The dark sky, a usually depressing sight, had no hold over the room they were in. The lamps gave off bright, cheerful light that made everyone forget about the horrible weather brewing outside, soaking pedestrians and pushing back against umbrellas.

Today was one of Peggy's better days. It was one of those days when she remembered him and the war and everything that had happened from when he had been actually enlisted and when he had disappeared for seventy years. Today was one of those days where she remembered his name and stories to tell him about her adventures. Steve found to love Peggy's stories, they made him smile and feel proud of her. It was great to hear her doing the things he would have wanted done if he'd actually been around. Today was a good day for Peggy.

"And then," Peggy could not help but smile, "the trunk sprang open and Mr. Hunt leapt out, jabbing Mr. Jarvis with the tranquilizer dart before I slammed the end of the rifle into his head and slammed it shut. Mr. Jarvis, well, he was in no position to drive."

Steve stared at her for a moment, "I still can't get over the fact that Howard had a pink flamingo, I'll need to ask Tony about that."

"Bless it that the flamingo was gifted with the name Bernard, and not Howard Stark's own son."

Of course, Peggy had her bad days as well. Days where she didn't remember where she was. Her mind, on bad days, went one of two ways. She was brought back in time to when it was the war and when it was after the war, when she was dealing with Russian spies and Zero Matter, and the hi-jinks of Howard Stark. It was those times the staff needed to be careful because, even as an elderly woman she had enough strength to stab you with a scalpel or needle. Or, she had no recollection of anything, even herself to an extent. She had no memory of Steve, of this Daniel Sousa from her past, of the Starks, no one. The nurses, though a bit heart broken by it, preferred those days because she wouldn't try to interrogate them for information they knew nothing about. Peggy was a calm sweet old lady, like every other old woman dealing with Alzheimer's. Though to Steve, he didn't know what was worse. Losing everything or mentally reliving it all without a choice.

"So," Peggy started, "How are you and your Avenger friends doing?"

"Oh, um..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, "Well..."

The idea of bringing his new friends, the friends who were as abnormal or more so than himself, to meet the most important woman from his past felt like a horrible idea. It wasn't that he didn't like them, no he loved the other Avengers. They reminded him of the commandos and his other army buddies, the Avengers were his ballast to this new world he was living in. He didn't want to see the greatest woman he ever met in possibly her worst state. Eventually her bad days would become more frequent and he didn't want his friends to remember her that way. He didn't want them remembering Peggy Carter in any way as less than she actually was. So how did he answer her?

"They're-They're doing well," Had his tongue gone numb? It felt like it. He wasn't quite sure what he was saying, and he kept nearly biting his tongue in two, "Been staying out of trouble."

"Really now?" Peggy hummed, a twinkle in her eyes, "How are those two assassins you were telling me about? Agent Barton and Agent Romanov. You told me they were helping you around S.H.I.E.L.D., they haven't ditched you have they?"

"No," Steve shook his head, "Clint and Nat are good. I think. I haven't really seen much of them. They're a bit..."

"They like to keep their secrets close and locked up tight?"

"Exactly!"

Peggy smiled, looking at him to continue. He stammered on however, much to her disappointment. He kept rambling and stumbling over his words, scratching at the back of his blonde hair. He didn't know what to tell her, she could see it in the slightly panicked expression reflecting in his blue eyes. She just wanted to know how he was doing, she wanted to know the people he was working and living with. Is that such a bad thing?

 _ **And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70**_

 _ **And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23**_

 _ **And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways**_

 _ **Maybe just the touch of a hand**_

 _ **Well, me—I fall in love with you every single day**_

 _ **And I just wanna tell you I am**_

"You still look beautiful," Steve whispered as he sat beside Peggy, literally right beside her. Their elbows were just a few centimeters away as they stared at the old home movie playing on the tv before them. He saw Peggy, smiling in a sun dress that he saw very unlike her, a sun hat on to protect her skin from the hot sun. In all the time Steve knew her, he saw her in uniform or dressed in formal attire. But here, Peggy was wearing a light green sun dress that went to just above her knees. She was smiling, looking at the camera and waving it away.

"Ana insisted that I wear it. She was scared if I wore anything else I'd pass out from heat stroke."

"Ana," Steve searched through his memory for the name and what it meant, "Ana Jarvis? The wife to Howard's butler."

"The first time I met that woman, she pulled her husband into a passionate kiss. She is quite the opposite of Mr. Jarvis, but they compliment each other incredibly. She, so lively, and he, so timid. He has an orderly nature about him and she is, not disorderly but vivacious and a bit spontaneous. She was not afraid to mince words. Oh but Mr. Jarvis, that tall slender frame and polite mannerism are quite deceiving. Saved my life more than once."

"Doesn't seem like a fighter," Steve commented, watching the video. He saw the tall slender man stand beside Peggy, handing her a drink and giving a shy, flustered look at the camera. The Peggy beside Steve laughed, jovially as the camera followed the fleeing butler, making him more and more nervous.

"Oh I know. But he is quite the wrestler," Peggy says as she calmed down, "What he lacks in muscle he makes up for in loyalty. You would have liked him Steve, you both had a bit more in common than you could imagine."

"Oh?" Steve inquired. He watched as the younger Peggy, the Peggy he had left reached out for the camera to hold and started to scold Howard. It occurred to him that Howard Stark was directing and she was trying to get him to share in the spot light with everyone else, demanding that he have a bit of camera time. Seeing Howard reminded the soldier how much Tony resembled the man.

"He was a good man," Peggy murmured, "Not many people will know what he did though. Though perhaps that's how he would have liked it, he was never a big man when it came to such extra agent amounts of attention."

Steve nodded and continued to watch the video, "And you said that this was L.A.?"

"Yep," Peggy says and turned her gaze away from the tv screen to Steve and said, "You'd like L.A., the weathers hot and the earthquakes tend to come out of no where but it's like New York. It's got the hustle and bustle of New York with hot weather."

"I could use some hot weather after seventh years plunged in the freezing cold."

"Yes, I think all of you could use a change of pace," Peggy mused.

At the mention of the Avengers, Steve fell silent. What could he say? It was true that there was a predictability within the Tower these days, about who was doing what and what they did when. The city, which was once vibrant with life and activities for Steve to keep himself busy with, had become almost as familiar as the back of Steve's hand. Time square, Manhattan, even some places in Brooklyn Steve could navigate as if he had grown up going down those streets like any other New Yorker and watched the city change. Life had come to a stand still and he knew that it was no longer peaceful for the other Avengers. They were all bored and easy to agitate, save for Bruce, running out of things to keep them busy. It's not like they wanted some villains to start popping up and trying to end the world, they just needed something to keep them stimulated. An adventure in L.A. could work, he didn't see why it shouldn't. Of course, he was also imagining everyone getting sick of one another and Natasha, due to her paler skin, turning as red as her hair from sunburn and Tony complaining about the sweltering weather, reminding them all about earth quakes. A good idea in theory, but in practical use Steve didn't know.

So deep in thought, Steve wasn't aware of the silence stretching out between them. Peggy watched him, taking in every little detail of Steve's expression. She took in the way his eyes stared sharply at a point in the distance and his jaw tightened. She studied the way the rest of his face besides his jawline otherwise went rather relaxed and he braced himself with his elbows. She fell into thoughts of her own, wondering how Steve was adjusting. Sure, he said things were going well, but he never liked to have her worry about him. Peggy wondered how he liked the other Avengers and how he had enjoyed S.H.I.E.L.D. before Hydra destroyed it. She wondered, wondered with quite a lot of worry, if Steve would be able to move on and cope after she died. Those sort of thoughts had been plaguing her but she was too concerned for Steve to bring them up and actually discuss it with him. She didn't want him to think she was going to roll over dead sooner than she actually was. Yet-

"Tell me about the Avengers," She changed the subject, piercing the silent and tearing them both from their pestering thoughts. The question made Steve raise his head and look her fully in the eyes. The video was forgotten.

"The Avengers?" Steve repeated, unsure what to say. Had he not told her about the team earlier, before the video started? What had he already told her?

"How are they?" She asked, "You haven't said much about any of them. It's like they don't exist."

"Oh," Steve felt sheepish, looking down at her cozy green blanket and tried to rack his head together with thoughts, "Well... They're all good. Thor's on Asgard, been there for a little while now but I'm sure he's fine. He said once that he liked to be around on Asgard when Odin takes his power naps or something, worried about someone trying to assassinate him or attack Asgard. Bruce and Tony haven't been spending that much time in the lab recently, I think they're getting bored and looking for some other scientist to visit and help. They act like if they don't do some sort of scientific research or build something, their brain cells will die. Still haven't seen much of Natasha, but Clint's been really bored. I think he's having a hard time not having S.H.I.E.L.D. to report to, the both of them probably. He just sits in his room or in the communal living room watching Netflicks and playing video games. Natasha, I see a bit of her in the gym. Well. That's usually where I always find her. But they're adjusting to the unemployment really well I guess. Better than some people could."

"That's good," Peggy said allowed, though she silently thought it was becoming a bit boring. As always having been a woman of action, she looked forward to hearing an adventure of any kind Steve had just experienced with his Avengers. She didn't care if it was storming hydra, saving the day, or dome chaos in the tower that had nothing to do with anything. She liked excitement. But even Steve had his boring days. Would it be too much to ask for some sort of silly story or a video of life with them?

"Peggy?" Steve looked at her, worried because she was started to stare off into space. She blinked and looked at him with a small smile and nodded, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," She hummed, "Nothing you need to worry about."

 _ **So, honey, now**_

 _ **Take me into your loving arms**_

 _ **Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars**_

 _ **Place your head on my beating heart**_

 _ **I'm thinking out loud**_

 _ **Maybe we found love right where we are**_

Entering back into the Tower, Steve usually liked to avoid the others when he came home from seeing Peggy. Every visit, he left with a tight ball in his chest and eyes burning with tears. It didn't matter if she was having a good day or awful one, leaving her was like possibly saying goodbye forever. Like at any minute, he could get a phone call from the nurses and they'd give him the traumatic news that she was gone forever.

He did his best to politely avoid the other Avengers, wanting to be left alone so he didn't have to talk about his visit with any of them. Usually, avoiding them was very successful. Natasha and Clint were always together, either in their rooms, on a mission, or training. Tony and Bruce were in the lab. Thor was the tricky one, but it was fairly easy to avoid him when you could hear his footsteps three hallways away. Today, unfortunately, sneaking in unnoticed did not go as planned. When he entered the elevator, it stopped halfway to his floor to let in Natasha. Her hair was tied up on a messy knot on her head, already coming apart. From the way she was rubbing her knuckles, Steve deduced that she had spent a few short hours punching a very hard bag. He couldn't deduce whether or not she was still in a bad mood. Was it safe to talk?

"How's Peggy?"

Steve blinked, nearly jumping out of his skin when she speaks. He looks at her and she holds a calm composure, looking up at him and waiting for an answer. He started to scratch the back of his head, racking his brain about for the right words he needs to not sound like an idiot.

"Oh, Peggy, she's-she's doing well," Steve stumbles over his words, and Natasha raised her eyebrow even higher in response. Natasha does not doubt his words but at the same time is very skeptical. Steve very rarely talked about his old love and was gone for hours visiting her. She could still count the number of times they worried he had been kidnapped, for Steve had been out late and failed to contact any of them, on one hand but the Black Widow knew that was bound to change.

Steve worried the other Avengers. It wasn't that they didn't trust him to return or were concerned by the fact that he didn't invite them, Natasha understood his logic, it was just that they worried about what would happen when he got the dreaded phone call. None of them knew how he would take it and were all concerned that it would just tip their patriotic friend over the edge. Why wouldn't it? Peggy was his last connection to his old life, to the 1940s, to everything he knew. Bucky was gone, even if they managed to snap him out if the mind wipe and help him it wouldn't be the same Bucky Steve knew. Natasha could guarantee it. What would happen to Steve? Would he tip over the edge? Would he spiral into a horrible depression? Go insane? Just leave the Avengers? Go into isolation even worse than Tony when he's inventing? There was no way any of them could predict Steve's reaction to when Peggy died. They all knew there would be grief but they didn't know in what form. Would there be tears? Would there be denial? A bunch of anger?

If only Steve would open up about Peggy. Natasha understood, she could relate to the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the woman's situation. She wouldn't want any friends to see her in a such a vulnerable position, losing herself slowly to a disease that there was no cure for. She would be utterly humiliated to have people see her in her worse moments, to not remember them or what they were talking about. She would hate to relive her shitty past. She would not want to be seen in such a vulnerable position after living her entire life as the opposite. Yet, Natasha wanted to meet the most important person in Steve's past. The entire team wants to be there for him and support him on those visits so he's not alone. They want to be there so he isn't alone on the trek back to the tower, nursing a cracked and broken heart when Peggy doesn't remember him. After all the times the Captain had saved their lives and been there for them, all the Avengers wanted to be there for him.

* * *

"I see you're still as extravagant as ever," Peggy murmured with a small smile as she gazed up at the giant bouquet of flowers he had set besides her bed.

Tony sat near her, wishing to kick his feet up but knew better than to set them on her bed. He smiled at her, reclined rather casually as he stared at the woman his father talked about nearly as much as he spoke of Steve. He kept his visits rather hushed up because the last thing this poor woman needed was paparazzi taking pictures of her while she was calling for a nurse.

"Only the best for you," Tony spread out his arms. This woman had helped raise him, whenever she came to visit his father or Jarvis she always made a point to check up on him and see how he was doing. She was his much prettier Nanny McPhee almost, except he rather hated Nanny McPhee.

"Now tell me," She stared at him with an expression fully aware and alert of her surroundings. It was a look he saw a bit in Clint, Hill, Natasha, and at times Steve's eyes. He supposed it came from the occupation of being a spy and/or soldier, "about the Avengers. Because Steve is quite boring when it comes to talking about you all."

"The Capsicle's all shy?" A small frown contorted his features as he took in that information. Though it didn't really surprise him, not when he really thought about it. When it came to Steve and his visits to Peggy, he didn't talk much about her either, "That's quite a bummer if I must say so myself."

Peggy nodded, "Doesn't talk about you all that much. Keeps it as short as possible."

"Well, he doesn't talk too much about his visits with you either Peg," Tony's eyes stray across the room towards the home movies Peggy has neatly stacked to watch on the tv. He couldn't fathom why she'd want to watch old memories over and over again, but given that she was losing her memory, it must be reasonable. The wheels were turning in his head though as he spoke, "And as gifted as I am with words, I can't tell you everything about my teammates in these visits. Not enough time in the world."

He saw her expression falter and Tony regretted saying those precise words. Quickly, before the moment passed and it was too late, he spoke, "But I'll do my best today."

There was silence between them as Peggy watched Tony, her bony hands clasped patiently in her lap and her eyes upon him. Usually, Tony had no issues with a million judgmental people watching him. He's stared in the face of countless reporters and looked into countless cameras completely unnerved. It was different with Peggy. She didn't expect anything but the truth from Tony and she wasn't judging him. That's what unnerved him, it was a gaze he rarely saw in people when they spotted him.

"Where do I begin?" He mused out loud, his thoughts whirling separately from his running mouth.

 _ **When my hair's all but gone and my memory fades**_

 _ **And the crowds don't remember my name**_

 _ **When my hands don't play the strings the same way (mmm...)**_

 _ **I know you will still love me the same**_

The nurse opened the door, very silent as she allowed Steve in. The expression on her face made his stomach twist and turn, staring at him sadly. Her expression was slack, eyes wide with something close to pity and sympathy. She had warned him when he came that he might not want to see Peggy today, that she wasn't very up to seeing visitors, but he had insisted and they couldn't turn him away no matter how hard they tried.

Peggy laid propped up by pillows, her curtains drawn over the sunny window to keep the room lightly alit. Her eyes didn't flicker to him when he stepped in, a very bad sign, and she didn't greet him. His footsteps, though loud and attention grabbing as they were, went totally unnoticed by the woman in bed as she stared right in front of her. Steve took the seat beside her and stared at the way her eyes were flickering around the front of the room. She turned to Steve with wide eyes, an innocent little expression that was nothing at all like the Peggy Carter he knew. She looked more and more like the helpless, naive, elderly old lady she most definitely wasn't.

"Hello!" She blinked and gave a small smile at Steve, "I'm sorry I didn't see you."

"I just came in," Steve says, watching her eyes as they held him. She have a smile across her face, which would have made him feel better, had she not stared at him without any real familiarity in her eyes. She just stared at him, staring but not recognizing him, "How are you feeling today?"

"Not bad," Peggy says, though it sounded much worse than she was letting on. She sounded rather resigned, "I'm sorry. Who're you?"

"Steve," A lump formed in his throat and something burned in his eyes. He didn't know what else to say, because she could be in a much worse position. She could be doing much worse, feel much more miserable, "Steve Rogers."

"Hello Steve," Peggy clasps her hands in her lap and asked, a but of curiosity in her voice, "What brings you here today?"

"I came to see you," That lump grew, making it difficult to swallow. He almost wanted to get up and leave, but if he did that he would not only being turning his back on her and her situation, he'd only bring himself into the hallway to sob his heart out. He couldn't abandon her, because she was still happy to have him here and he didn't think he could handle upsetting her. He would want someone to see him still if this was his situation.

"Oh," She blinked, suddenly very puzzled. Her eyebrows knitted together and Steve saw that she was rather confused about the entire situation. Her eyes were sweeping the room again, and he could see that she didn't recognize her surroundings. He quickly spotted the tv, and the home movies still beside it and decided some tv might do them something well. Maybe distract her and himself.

"Would you like to watch some television?"

She nodded and Steve stood, taking the remote and turned it on. A home movie started to play, a video he had not seen before. It appeared to be some sort of celebration, he didn't know for what and why but he could tell it was a very festive mood. He moved to take a seat besides Peggy, turning it up a tiny bit to ensure she'd hear it and watched the video. There was a younger Peggy, carrying deep dishes of food he couldn't quite identified. Sure there was a turkey and some cranberry sauce, but he couldn't put a label on any of the other stuff.

"Who's that slender woman in the flowery dress?" Steve recognized the woman to be Ana Jarvis, the wife of Howard Stark's butler. There was a few short seconds of silence before Peggy began to question who the English woman in the green dress was.

"That's you Peggy."

"Really?" She hummed, "Who's that man coming up behind me then?"

"That's Howard Stark, and the tall slender man with the light brown hair is Mr. Jarvis."

"And who's that woman in the flowery dress?"

"That's Ana," Steve sighed, and for a little while they fell into comfortable silence. A false sense of calm fell over Steve as he sat there and he started to forget. He zoned out, so focused on the tv before him and the video that when Peggy spoke after ten minutes, he tensed as if he had been jerked awake.

"Who's that tall man?" She asked pointing to Mr. Jarvis. Steve blinked, as Mr. Jarvis had just returned to the videotaping, having disappeared for a prolonged amount of time. Steve answered, repeating the answer when she couldn't hear him and that twisting feeling in his gut reared it's ugly head again.

"What is it that they're eating?"

"I'm not quite sure," Steve says, "I think it's a thanksgiving dinner though. Or maybe some other sort of big dinner. Like Easter."

"Oh," She hummed, looking at Steve and she raised a hand up to his face suddenly. Steve was tensed as she brushed some hair from his face and looked inquisitively into his blue eyes, gently watching him. She was silent for a few moments, humming to herself, "Are there any videos here with you in them Steve dear? Surely your father and I or-"

"No, there aren't," Steve interrupted quickly, staring at her. She really must not be in the best mind set today if she is under the allusion that he was her son. Him, Steve Rogers, who was around the same age as her when they had originally met. Technically he was still the same age as her though looked to be in his very early thirties. Peggy was not his mother, he didn't know how and why she came to that conclusion but wasn't going to make an argument out of this.

"Would you mind bringing some from home Steve?" Peggy asked curiously, looking at him hopefully, "Bringing some from home? We could watch them. Please? That be a lot of fun Steve."

"Oh, um... Well..." He scratched the back of his head, unsure what to say. The answer was obviously yes though, even if Steve felt highly uncomfortable about it. He couldn't tell her no, especially in the state she was in. For all he knows she may remember this tomorrow and the next time he visits, and she never asked him for anything. Not even for the weekly visits. She didn't ask him for anything, saying no to a single request was like a slap in the face. By the time he worked up the Will to say yes though, Peggy's attention was redirected to something else before he could actually say it.

 _ **'Cause, honey, your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen**_

 _ **And, baby, your smile's forever in my mind and memory**_

 _ **I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways**_

 _ **Maybe it's all part of a plan**_

 _ **Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes**_

 _ **Hoping that you'll understand**_

"Who sent you the flowers?"

Steve stared at the bright azaleas, confused where they came from because he distinctly remembered never sending her azaleas before and didn't remember bringing flowers last week. They were beautiful and smelled lovely, a faint perfume scent that carried pleasantly throughout the room.

"An old friend came to visit," Peggy spoke in a soft voice, "He gets a bit carried away now and then getting me flowers or things to help make me comfortable. He's a bit overdramatic now and then."

"Really?" Peggy could laugh at the expression Steve was giving her, genuine curiosity without the slightest idea of who she was talking about. It was utterly hilarious. Steve caught the last linger bits of the expression as it slowly faded, but didn't really know what to make of her restraints at laughter.

"Oh yes," Peggy hummed, and started to shuffle around in her bed. It took Steve a few minutes to realize that she was trying to sit a bit more upright and prepping herself to swing her legs over the side of the bed. It wasn't until she was in the middle of swinging her right leg did he realize what was going on and was immediately on his feet.

"Peggy what are you doing?"

"Take my hand Steve," She says in a slightly orderly tone, "I need someone to be my support as I stand. Come on Steve, stop wasting time."

"Peggy-" He blinked as he took her hand and she rose to her feet. This was the first time he had ever seen her out of bed and she stared up at him with the same defiant look in her eyes as usual. She puts a hand on his shoulder and entangles their fingers together with the other, "What are you-"

"You still need that dance lesson."

Heat immediately flooded his face as guilt made his stomach turn. The dance. The date he was horribly too late for. He didn't know what was worse, being late to her date or never actually learning to dance since he woke up. It didn't feel as necessary as it once did back during the war. She was so fragile in his arms, and he and no idea what he was doing. What if he stepped on her foot or accidentally dropped her? What if-

Peggy grabbed a remote from the bedside table and pressed a button Steve couldn't see. Ballroom music graced the silence and he stared at her confused. She smiled slyly, grateful for Tony hooking this all up for her yesterday so she could do this dance lesson with Steve. Her hand tightens around Steve's and she nudges him backwards away from the bed. He opened his mouth to protest but she shushed him and started to guide him slowly around the room in a very slow waltz. He was so tense, stumbling over his own toes in man effort to not step all over hers.

"Steve, we're dancing far slower than I like and am capable of. Relax, you're too tense."

His face turned red, and he tried to why away from her. But her grip was strong on his shoulder and she held him fairly well in place. She gave him a hard stare before leading him across the floor again and slowly lead him into a very slow spin. The music was going on repeat as they continued to twirl in a circle.

"Peggy," He felt his throat constrict a bit as he started to speak, "Why are we doing this? You should be resting."

"You need to learn," She sounded like they were arguing over this when the argument hadn't even begun yet. Her eyes were locked right on his and she stopped dancing, "Knowing how to dance is very important," Steve wanted to protest but couldn't think of what to say. He knew that there was something more to this than just teaching him to dance.

"Peggy."

She blinked and suddenly Steve wanted to hold her on his arms, the woman looked to be in near tears. He bit his lip and watched her as she composed herself. She spoke, but it sounded slightly strained as well, "This is important Steve. You need to learn how to do this."

"Alright."

Steve took a firm but gentle hold of her hand and stared at her, following her steps. He didn't have the heart to argue with her. Her eyes were pleading with him and Steve was one to follow good orders when he saw them.

 _ **That, baby, now**_

 _ **Take me into your loving arms**_

 _ **Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars**_

 _ **Place your head on my beating heart**_

 _ **Thinking out loud**_

 _ **Maybe we found love right where we are (oh, oh)**_

Steve was very reluctant to walk in on Peggy and see her, because her unrecognizing gaze brought a line of goosebumps to the surface and made his stomach churn. He felt unsettled as he entered and her eyes turned to him. She saw him, but he could see they were full of hostility and didn't recognize him. It made him uneasy and his cheeks heated up slightly.

Peggy's bad days were more consistent than they usually were, having lasted for now three weeks. Three weeks since she insisted on giving him that dance lesson. Steve should have refused and forced her to stay in bed, if he knew that that was going to be her last good day for a while he would have made her save her strength. She went back and forth between what she remembered and it had made Steve very anxious and uncertain when he visited her and five times more reluctant to leave her side after every visit. What if this was his last visit?

"Hi Peggy," He forced a smile on his face as he stepped into the room and heard the nurse close the door. He didn't hear it click all the way and knew they were listening and waiting incase they were needed. He took a seat in the same chair he usually occupied and folded his hands in his lap. She stared back at him with an ice cold gaze, an almost hostile expression.

"Jack," Steve blanked, trying to remember who this Jack might be but couldn't really remember. Jack was a popular name and he didn't really recall her ever mentioning the name before, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you Peggy," Steve forced himself to speak but he was the only one to truly hear him. Peggy didn't hear a word he said. An entirely different conversation was going on in her head, her face remained rather impassive as she stared blankly.

Steve couldn't help but wonder what Peggy was reliving. She saw Howard's new mansion in Los Angeles, still being very gentle with her side so not to tear the stitches and keep everyone happy, and there he was. Swanky, thick headed Jack Thompson in his normal attire, his suit which seemed to make him uncomfortable in the California heat. He held out that file, titled M. Carter, threatening her with the contents within. He was willing to stoop so low because of his high ambitions and fears that she would betray him. The very thought that he thought so little made her cheeks flush with anger and her jaw was tense at the very idea of betraying him. She was a loyal SSR agent and he thought she was going to tell the world his most hidden, guilty secret that made him feel less of a man. Steve, to her, was the scum who had no faith in her.

"You can't seriously think I'll back down like this do you? After being threaten with a clearly false claim. Do you truly think so little of me? Has ambitious and glory truly ruined your common sense?"

Steve sat silently, wanting to tell her that he didn't understand what she was talking about. He knew that wouldn't do anything though, wouldn't explain the situation to him because Peggy wouldn't hear it. Her brain would translate it into something.

"It likely did Peggy," Steve commented, wondering who this Jack fellow was. He thought he might have an idea but needed to listen for a bit longer to be 100% sure.

"I'm not the enemy Thompson. You should have learned that by now," Thompson! Steve recognized the last name fairly well. From what he heard from Peggy, Thompson was a rather arrogant SSR agent he doubted he'd get along well with. Steve couldn't imagine the frustration Peggy was reliving, "But clearly you refuse to see the truth when it's right in front of you."

"I know you aren't Peggy."

Steve turned his gaze down to his feet as he listened to her, staring at his sneakers and examine the worn seams. The door opened behind him but he paid no mind to it. He assumed it was a nurse, coming to tell him he might want to leave as they settled Peggy down. It didn't occur to him that the footsteps echoed unlike the steps of a nurse. It was only when Peggy spoke did he realize it.

"Howard."

Steve swiveled around in his chair and stared up into the face of, not Howard, Tony Stark. Tony barely gave Steve an acknowledging glance, his eyes on the woman in bed before them both. Steve saw that Tony was neither dressed down like a slob covered in grease not in one of his many expensive suits. He had on a nice pair of jeans and a long sleeve white flannel shirt beneath a Yankees t-shirt.

"Peggy," Tony smiled a tiny bit and her hostile glare disappeared very slightly. Tony was relieved, because there had been times he'd come see her and she'd go off in the same lectures his father received. He was almost very aware that Steve was watching him.

"I told you," Peggy sighed, sounding much more exasperated than before, "I'd rather play the cowboy."

Tony smiled and nodded, "I know." Though, all Peggy heard was that the world just wasn't ready for it.

Steve fell utterly silent as Tony approached Peggy's bedside and engaged her in polite conversation. He hadn't any idea what Peggy was saying and he had the gut feeling Tony only understood half of what was going on. Yet Peggy was talking, really talking even though whatever she was saying made no sense to either of them. Steve was afraid to join in, incase that hostility returned and she saw him as Jack Thompson. He didn't want that, he wanted to enjoy the scene before him of Peggy talking to Tony, who was continuing to talk unfazed by the miscommunication.

* * *

They were there for an hour and fifteen minutes before the nurses asked them to leave so Peggy could get some well deserved rest. Steve didn't blame them, she needed her rest. For some reason, him and Tony were strolling side by side to the tower and it was infuriating him just slightly. Why was Tony there? How did he know what to do? How wasn't he fazed by all of that? Questions were swarming his brain and he didn't know how to get them out without sounding confrontational or jealous. So he kept silent, and that silence managed to stretch nearly the entire journey home. Right up until they entered the elevator.

"I visit her every week, every week and a half if I can help it," Tony shared, looking up at the ceiling as if it's the most interesting thing in the world, "This isn't the first time she's mistaken me as my dad."

"The resemblance between you and Howard is uncanny," Steve commented, unsure if this was a compliment to Tony or a small slap in the face. He knew Howard was not the most interactive father and he knew Tony had a big shadow to live up to. Tony detected a slight bitter tone in Steve's voice and said.

"You and Agent Thompson have the blonde hair. It's something small but those small cues can trigger big things in memory. Don't beat yourself up over it. I bet if she met Romanoff she'd confuse her for Dottie Underwood."

"For who?"

"Never mind," Tony waved it away, "Don't get so down. She's been hostile towards me before. You and I both know my dad isn't the easiest," Seeing that Steve looked skeptical he sighed, "JARVIS?"

 _"Yes sir."_

Steve frowns confused, unsure what Tony had just asked of JARVIS or how JARVIS knew exactly what he needed. He heard Peggy though, her voice echoed from the speakers and made his chest ache.

 _"I think you're a man out for his own gain no matter who you're charging. You are constantly finding holes to slither your way into in the hope of finding loose change, only to cry when you're bitten by another snake. You're a man who says, "I love you," whilst looking over a woman's shoulder into the mirror. Steve Rogers dedicated his mind, his body, his life to the SSR and to this country, not to your bank account. I made the same pledge, but I'm not as good as Steve was. I forgot my pledge running around for you like a corporate spy. So thank you, Howard, for reminding me who Steve was and what I aspire to be."_

"She mistook me for my dad. I've heard that speech three or four times. Not really sure what my dad did to deserve it but..." Tony trailed off, looking at Steve.

"That's pretty harsh to listen to," Steve whispered, his only response. He didn't understand why Tony recorded it but then again, he didn't understand a lot about Tony. The genius confused him, he knew Tony had no ill will against innocent people but Tony was not the most simply person. Of course, he also wasn't the most complicated and it felt a bit reassuring to know that there was someone else on the team going through a similar pain to his in concern to Peggy.

 _ **La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, lo-ud**_

"Are you sure this is a good idea Stark?"

Clint was leaning against the wall, staring at the door. Yet, his eyes kept wandering back and forth towards the bed Founder Peggy Carter was lounging in. Sitting in the chair was Tony tilting his head all the way back so he could look at Natasha as she addressed him. The archer was silent as he focused his attention onto the door, knowing Tony had good intentions but slightly uneasy with the plan. Steve wasn't one to talk about his visits with anyone, he didn't think showing up in the woman's room waiting for the Captain to stop by and surprise him was a good idea. He rather wished he hadn't gone along with all of this, that he refused to come but he didn't have the heart to leave. They were in the same room as Peggy Carter after all.

Clint wasn't stupid, he knew faintly about who Peggy Carter was. According to Coulson, she was the unsung heroine of their time, the Founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., the old flame of Captain America. The archer sometimes thought that Coulson over glorified the woman before him because of her connections with his favorite hero. All Clint ever heard a out the woman was little tidbits, not a complete history. He knew now though that Peggy Carter was no joke.

"Quit your worrying Romanoff," Tony drawled out and glanced at his watch impatiently, "Where is he? The one time he's running late."

"He's likely getting flowers," Peggy murmured, closing her eyes as she drank in the silence around her. Everyone, except Tony, was tense and uneasy. None of them knew the woman before them and we're sick with worry that they'd make a bad impression. Peggy was so important to Steve, they didn't want to ruin that in any way.

"But-" Tony gestured to the flowers he brought some lilacs and daisies. They weren't as large as the last bouquet but they were rather gorgeous. Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony and the genius sighed, "He's taking forever!"

Footsteps much louder than those of the nurses were heard approaching and everyone fell silent, eyes on the door expectantly. Peggy felt her stomach twist, she hadn't asked Tony to do this but was glad the other Avengers were brought here. It aggravated her just how shy they were all acting, nervous around her as if she held any more power. She was in a bed, measuring how much pain she was in if any. There wasn't much she could do to them. The footsteps came and went, and Peggy sighed. Not Steve.

"You all act as though you need to tell him I died," Peggy complained, catching everyone's eye, "And I hardly know any of you. I can tell that you both-" She pointed to Natasha and Clint, "Are the two S.H.I.E.L.D. assassins he's always secretly worrying about, even if he won't really say it, and that you-" She pointed at Thor, "Must be Thor and-"

"We get the point Peggy," Tony sighed, "And that's not our fault."

"Oh you're no better than Steve sometimes Tony. All you ever wanna tell me about is this new armor or what Pepper's doing and how she is and what new discoveries you're unearthing. God, I think I'd almost prefer talking Jarvis through stealing highly radioactive rods for an atomic bomb."

"You did what now?" Bruce asked as the same time Tony asked, "You had him do what?"

"You do not mean the voice in ceiling do you? I thought he had no sustainable form," Thor joined in. It made Peggy smile and she explained to Thor that JARVIS is named after a real person, a butler of the Starks who had joined her on her adventures. Then she turned to look a Tony, trying to not snicker.

"He never told you about that? He compared it to a soufflé."

"Never."

Tony frowns, his lips pursing together into a thin line as he took in this information. Clint and Natasha were looked at Peggy with wide, interested expressions like two small children during story time. Clearly they wanted to know what had happened and why the circumstances required the butler to do it instead of a professional. Yet they were both hesitant to ask, not wanting to cross any lines. Peggy caught their expressions and gave a smile, "Oh you both are in for quite a treat."

 _ **So, baby, now**_

 _ **Take me into your loving arms**_

 _ **Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars**_

 _ **Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart**_

 _ **I'm thinking out loud**_

 _ **But maybe we found love right where we are**_

 _ **Oh, baby, we found love right where we are**_

 _ **And we found love right where we are**_

Steve entered the room, completely unnoticed by everyone as Peggy spoke. They were all hanging on her every word as she recounted how the SSR recovered the uranium rods before Whitney Frost could use them to detonate a bomb. None of them noticed Steve until Peggy turned to face him and greeted him with a smile. They all turned to stare at him, Steve staring back at them shocked and confused.

"What-but-"

"Come on Steve," Peggy motioned him forward, "I'm just about to get to the part where I make a deal with a convicted USSR spy."

Steve took a seat in front of Peggy, pulling over one of the extra chairs the team brought in. Peggy noticed that there was something being concealed from behind his back and motioned for him to stop hiding it. Steve listened to her and it reminded the older woman of something Dum Dum Dougan once said. She smiled and stared at the DVD resting in a protective case before them.

"Home movie," He says, and at the confused looks of the other Avengers he explained, "I asked JARVIS to help me put together some of the footage from the security cameras and from what he sees."

"Ohhh!" They all nodded and acknowledgement, but most of them shuffled uncomfortable. None of them had any idea what was on that DVD but they could only guess it was something embarrassing. They would have asked exactly what was on it but were too scared what everyone would think.

"Come on guys, listen to the rest of Peggy's story and then we'll watch the DVD," Steve says, the tension disappearing from around his shoulders. He could see the look they were all giving him, all wanting to know what they were caught doing on that DVD. But they all turned their attention back to Peggy.

"So I enter the prison under the guise of a doctor, a therapist because Sousa and I can't have it on the SSR records that we saw her. Otherwise Thompson and Vernon Masters would find out and know I was still sticking my nose in something I shouldn't, but I'm glad I was," Peggy starts, seeing everyone leaning in close to listen to her story. But her eyes were on the DVD, smiling. Steve had brought her a home movie.

* * *

 **I have an idea for "Honey I'm Good," and one of those superman songs, I think the one by Charlie Puth. :D. His name is likely misspelled. And I wanna do something with "Hey There Delilah".**

 **I'm sorry if this took a long time to type up. It took a long time to do this. At first I wanted to make this Stucky and some Steve and Peggy fluff, but that was difficult and I wasn't happy with it so I had to more or less rewrite EVERYTHING half way through. Admittibly the ending is a bit rushed. Please Review. Follow. Favorite.**

 **Now, from what I understand, Peggy has Alzheimer's. Alzheimer's or Dementia. My grandma died this year from Alzheimers, she thought my aunt who was caring for her was her mother and my sister was my aunt/her daughter. I'm not an expert, that's just what I saw when we went over on Christmas, but my grandma also wasn't doing well and died a little right after NewYears. I don't mean to offend anyone or downgrade Peggy for the awesome character that she it. I'll try to stop writing sad, depressing stuff.**


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